


Four Parellel Universes Ahead

by Piece_of_shit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, MGiT, Major canon divergence, Modern Girl as Inquisitor, Modern Girl in Thedas, Original Character(s), POV Bisexual Character, Solas is an ass, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piece_of_shit/pseuds/Piece_of_shit
Summary: Valerie may not be from Thedas, have mysterious Fade magic in her hand, have knowledge of the future that she shouldn't, be an overthinker who plans too much, be scared shitless of being responsible for countless lives, and make jokes and references no one else gets...But she's got the power to make Corypheus eat shit, and she's going to enjoy making that happen.(Because who doesn't love a sassy Inquisitor OC who's got her shit (mostly) together)
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Male Character(s), The Iron Bull/Original Female Character
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90





	1. Hitting the Ground Running

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so I've already written like 86k words and 15 chapters of this fic, so I figured it was worth posting it. The title is definitely a meme. I'm going for an overachieving OC who talks shit. Have fun y'all.

It’s been a while since Valerie had felt this cold. Or sore. Or wet. Or… wait.

Valerie groaned, and sat up. Her hand hurt, her head hurt, her eyes hurt, _everything was so fucking sore_. Goddamn. Did she drink a lot or something? She managed to get her eyes opened anyways, just for the sake of knowing what the hell was going on.

When she saw that she was in a dungeon cell, she regretted every decision she had ever made in her life.

A dungeon. Flashing green light, reflecting on the wet stone. Torches being the only constant source of light. Guards with swords and armor.

Like in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Holy fuck.

Valerie looked down. Someone had changed her clothes, because instead of leggings, tshirt and cardigan, she was wearing a tunic with ill-fitting leather pants. When another green flash came, she saw that her hand was the source.

Shit. The Anchor. Was in her hand. _Her_ hand. Did this make her the Inquisitor?

The bars of the cell opened, and she dazedly looked up. A woman in armor and shackles in her hand stood in front of the torchlight, making her too backlit to see any features. “Seeker and the Nightingale are going to question you. Don’t try anything funny.”

Valerie could only nod. The shackles were cold as the woman put them around her wrists. It hurt a bit when they were locked, and pulled to direct her to walk.

Her vision went black as she stood. She almost lost balance, but with the woman holding the shackles, she didn’t fall over. Her mouth ached. She was probably severely dehydrated, but her stomach felt too tight and shaky to think of swallowing anything right now.

The dungeon was just like the one in the game, meaning she was underneath the Chantry in Haven, and it was just as cold and dark as it had looked. Her Inquisitor had come down here several times to look for loot, but the hallway looked so much more menacing than in the game. Four armored guards were waiting outside her cell.

“Kneel,” the woman directed. Valerie obeyed, feeling the cold through the fabric of her pants, and the wet spot by her left knee. The shackles’ chain was looped through an anchor (ha) in the floor. Some words passed between the guards, a knock came on the door, and it opened.

Light shone in the room. Cassandra Pentaghast, and Leliana Nightingale came down the stairs.

Terror filled Valerie. Her stomach went from tight to missing, and her heart was trying to pound out of her chest. They believed her to have caused the Breach. They blamed her for the death of the Divine. And she was being put on trial right now.

Cassandra looked like the game. Armor, scar, hair, angled eyebrows. Leliana was harder to tell under the hood, but the armor was the same.

Fuck. Valerie felt like she was floating, or maybe that just her head was floating while the rest of her body was shackled below. Could it be shock? She’d had that happen once, when she cut her leg pretty bad. Yeah, this was probably shock. The nausea was pounding inside her, trying to force something out of her.

Cassandra came around to behind her, and leaned in close. She wanted to shiver and vomit. It felt like every one of her nerves wanted to leave her body. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

Valerie had romanced Cassandra in one of her two playthroughs. How weird would it be to blurt that out now? Probably very weird.

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” Cassandra was now back in her field of vision, pointing at Valerie. She had always appreciated how expressive Cassandra’s face was. It felt so horrifying to see the pain and anger on her face now, especially with the realism the game never gave. “Except for you.”

Valerie should talk. She was supposed to say something by now, but it was all she could do to breathe properly. Her eyes were wide, staring at Cassandra and feeling the pounding in her head and heart.

Her hand glowed, and Cassandra grabbed it. “Explain this.”

Finally, a sound came from her. It was either a whimper or a laugh, Valerie couldn’t tell. But it broke something, if only the lump in her throat. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Just explain,” Cassandra replied, voice somehow harder than before.

Fuck. Would this mess with the storyline, if she talked about it? She already knew what happened to the Inquisitor, but what if the information she talked about threw off all her knowledge of the world? She had no assets besides the mark on her hand, and the knowledge of the future. “You aren’t supposed to know yet,” she breathed, thoughts racing.

A hand grabbed her shirt collar, pulling it tight and making her tilt her head back. “Says who?” Cassandra was furious now.

“I don’t know.”

Leliana spoke up for the first time, moving closer. “We don’t have time for your games. Tell us, or we assume you never will, and we leave you down here to rot. Or worse.” Despite the poor lighting and the hood, Valerie could see her eyes narrow.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Leliana would make good on that threat, and Valerie couldn’t take back her words now.

She spoke slowly, trying to pay attention to her words despite the floating in her head and the sinking in her stomach. “Divine Justinia was captured. She was going to be used for a ritual or something, and I interrupted it. There were Gray Wardens, and—” should she say Corypheus? Not now, she shouldn’t know that. Maybe later. “A man. He was about 8 feet tall. Demonic. Red crystals growing from his face and body. He was holding something. Justinia knocked it out of his hand when I walked into the room, and I picked it up. Then… I think the explosion happened then. I’m not sure. I think I was transported to the Fade. I was being chased, by these demons.” What would they have looked like to her? Her greatest fear?

Valerie laughed. She had always wondered what her boggart would look like. As a kid, it would surely have been dementors, because she was obsessed with Harry Potter, and they seemed the creepiest things in the books. But what about now? Trump, maybe?

The laugh quickly turned into hyperventilation. Her heart was somehow pounding even harder, the dim light from the torches seemed too much, and her head hurt so damn much.

A hand smacked her cheek. The pain was different, stinging instead of aching, and it knocked the breath out of her. “Pull yourself together,” Cassandra snapped.

“Yes, ser.” Despite the violence, it worked. She wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. Small blessings. “I was being chased. I remember I was saved by a woman, I think it was Justinia, but I can’t remember properly. Then I ran out of the Fade. I passed out, and I woke up here.”

Leliana was frowning. “A tall tale. You must be lying.”

Valerie laughed again. “Shit’s gone down, but shit’s about to go sideways.” Her dad once said that to her, when she was going through a breakup right before finals week in college.

Cassandra glared at her some more, but turned to Leliana. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

“Oh god, it begins,” Valerie murmured, feeling the terror rack her body once again. It was time to go out there, and start on the path of the Inquisitor. She didn’t have a choice. It had to be done.

Valerie followed Cassandra dazedly. At least they gave her a thick leather coat, because she would have been much colder and much more vulnerable. The dialogue from Cassandra was familiar. It was much more disturbing to hear in person, to feel the glares of all the townspeople as she walked past. Her face was heating up in shame, despite knowing that she wasn’t at fault.

It took her a while to notice that her shoes didn’t fit. Well, she wasn’t sure if she was even wearing shoes beforehand, something to think about later. These ones did much better in the snow than any of hers would and she would like to avoid frostbite, even if her feet would probably blister by the end of the day.

If she lived.

God, she was fucked.

She snapped out of her reverie when the bridge exploded. She slammed into the ice below, pain blooming from her shoulder. As she pushed herself off of the ice, she rolled her shoulder to check it. It moved, meaning it wasn't broken or dislocated. Small blessings. 

Cassandra charged at lesser shade that appeared across the river. Dread hit her as she realized that, according to the script, another shade would pop up and come for her, and she’d have to kill it.

Before it killed her.

Behind her, she saw the crates. She scrambled towards them, feeling again the soreness in her body. There was a large axe, and she tried to pick it up, but it was simply too heavy. Behind her, the sounds of ice cracking made her heart race further. There was a greatsword, but it looked too heavy as well. Dagger? She saw a matching one next to it, and picked them up. Better than nothing. 

The demon burst out of the ice, and leaned towards her. Fuck, it was tall. Valerie was already 5’10”, but this thing was at least a foot taller. It swiped towards her with its claws, and there _had_ to be a _lot_ of adrenaline in her, because she ducked to the left just in time. The next swipe was horizontal, so she ducked downwards. Unfortunately, she took too long to get back up, because the claws staked themselves into her right shoulder.

“Dammit,” she yelled, feeling her legs weaken. Something was trickling down her arm. (Blood, her brain told her. Her body was bleeding. She was losing blood.) The dagger in her other hand, however, was steady as she brought it down on the arm of the demon.

Demons in the game would take every hit without changing appearance, but that was just game mechanics. Not realism. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised when black blood spurted in her face, and the hand severed from the skeletal arm, leaving a hand with claws buried in the flesh of her shoulder.

The pain still radiated from her right side, and the demon was still going for her. She tumbled to the right, dodging the next attack. It was a lot slower with only one set of claws, but so was she, with only one arm. She slashed at its back, hoping to get something serious. More of the black blood oozed out. This close up, it looked less like blood, and more like liquid shadow.

It whipped around, claws coming in on her right. Again, she ducked down, but she slashed at the legs while she was there. The demon didn’t like that. The scream it let out was awful, like several nightmares came together to create a soundtrack. She stood back up, stabbing again at the torso. Her injured arm complained, but she slashed with it anyways. The pain was mind-numbing, but strangely, it made it easier to focus. No panic, no fear, only fight.

The demon finally screeched, and disintegrated into a pile of black soot. Or maybe it was more of that liquid shadow. Valerie felt her chest heave with each breath.

Cassandra seemed to finish with her demon right afterwards. The Seeker was obviously going to check Valerie, but the concern fled when she saw the daggers in her hands. Her longsword came up, and pointed at her chin.

“Put those down.”

When Valerie first played this game, it seemed vital that she get everyone’s approval. She remembered looking up the best answer to this question. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’ll put them down.” The daggers were being slowly placed on the icy ground. Pain still overtook much of her brainpower, and she didn't have it in her to argue with Cassandra.

Cassandra’s face softened, then she sighed. “No, keep them. I can’t expect you to remain defenseless.” It was an odd relief to know that Cassandra still behaved like the game.

Maybe she was dreaming, and she was living the game only in thought. But no, Cassandra made no references to future events, or the romance shared with her character. Leliana also seemed too on script. Valerie was the only one who seemed to know there was even a script in the first place.

Also, Valerie had never really been a lucid dreamer. Her dreams were often vivid, but they didn’t have the sense of choice and consistency that this reality had.

“Is that a _hand_ in your shoulder?”

“Oh, uh. Yes.”

“Maker. We need to get that out of you. Here.” Cassandra sheathed her sword, and pulled out a small vial. It was probably a health potion. How many hit points would it heal for? How many hit points did Valerie have right now?

“On the count of three, I’m pulling it out.” The Seeker put one hand on her upper arm, and the other gripped the dead demon flesh. “One, two—” the hand was yanked out. Pain flashed and burned up through her neck and down her arm.

“Fuck!”

“Drink.” The vial was shoved into her hand. Blood was pouring more freely down her arm, so she had to use the other hand to take it. She pulled the cork out with her teeth, and drank the contents in one go. “Take these as well. Maker knows you’ll need them.”

After a moment, Valerie could feel the blood stop pouring out of the claw marks, and warmth and clarity return to her. She didn’t notice it going. The pain certainly didn’t stop, but it eased up, enough that she could still fight.

They continued onward. Valerie had an easier time with the wraiths, but did get hit with weakening beam. It made her movement even slower. At least wraiths were easy to kill, once you got in range. Green flashes kept raining down from the sky, and hitting too close for comfort. Her hand and shoulder were throbbing with aches and sharpness. The blood had soaked into her coat, and was starting to get sticky and painful as it dried. But hey. She was alive.

Thankfully, the weakening blast from the wraiths wore off by the time they came to the first rift. Valerie remembered her first try of this fight, and it sucked. Then again, she had been on Nightmare level difficulty.

Fighting so many demons at once was significantly harder in person than through a screen. In person, you can only see what’s in front of you, meaning you had very little idea of what could be happening behind you. Valerie began fighting a shade at the edge of the battle, not wanting to get herself surrounded. God knows the amount of terror she felt already, but having to watch her back as well as fighting what’s in front of her? Not today.

This fight took longer, and Valerie got hit again. This time on her face, right on the top of her cheek. At least it wasn’t her eye. Maybe she’d get a badass scar like Cassandra. She kept fighting, feeling her muscles shake with weakness. When did she last eat something? Drink water? Fuck, she was exhausted.

The fight ended the same as the game; Solas shoving her hand towards the rift. The magic of the Anchor felt strange, like she was holding a ball of hot glue and let it melt into her hand. It hurt, but it slid through her in an oddly satisfying way.

She shook her hand out of the elf’s. “Fuck,” she sighed, blinking down at the ground. Her arm with the mark felt even more sore, not quite painful, but certainly stiff.

“Our savior is quite eloquent. Can I quote you on that?” Varric asked in a rough voice.

“I’m not anybody’s savior. I have no idea what the hell is going on.” Her hand was back to aching again, pulsing again with the sky.

Solas had a much more calm and smooth voice when he spoke. “We’d been fighting those things for more than an hour now. I would happily call you a savior.”

“Valerie Garcia. Call me Val.”

“Valerie, then.” Solas smiled. Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. She just said—oh, never mind, she only told her friends to call her that, and she didn’t like anything about Solas enough to call him a friend. God, his baldness seemed even worse than in the game, and his dumb fucking chin was weirdly too large and too pointy. She never understood the appeal. Then again, she didn’t understand the appeal of Blackwall or Sera either, and plenty of people wanted those romances.

Solas continued, taking on that tone Valerie never liked, as if he knew everything and you couldn’t phase him no matter how hard you tried. “The same magic that caused the Breach gave you your mark. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake—and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra stomped forward. “Maybe it could close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation, Valerie.”

“And here I’d thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”

Oh god, Varric was here too. Valerie liked him much better. He was at least honest about being a liar. Varric continued his smooth-talking introduction. Even the wink at Cassandra was included. It looked much less smooth than she remembered, so she couldn’t help but agree with the disgusted noise Cassandra made.

“Varric. Nice to meet you. I hope we don’t die together.”

Varric laughed. “You and me both. At least Bianca and I get to spend some time together.”

“Bianca, the crossbow.” Valerie was having a hard time coming to terms with that. Not the fact that his crossbow had a name, or that name was a real person, or that real person had a significant hand in the distribution of red lyrium. Mostly, Valerie was struggling with the fact that it was all right in front of her.

Again, she _could_ just be having a strange dream, but again, she _really_ couldn’t be. She’d even taken acid once in college, and she should have nowhere near this much awareness while hallucinating.

Green light crashed down behind them, breaking ground and shining harder as dirt flew out of the crater. Right. The Breach. The apocalypse she was meant to be stopping.

“Of course! And she’ll be great company in the valley.”

Cassandra and Varric argued for a moment. Cassandra was every bit as aggressive and intimidating as everyone made her seem. Valerie was already tall, but Cassandra had a couple inches on her. Combine that with dark eyes, scar, muscle behind armor, and very deep frown, and she could express her disapproval extremely easily.

Fuck, Valerie was always weak for women taller than her, especially the grumpy ones. Her girlfriend in sophomore year of college was like that, but blonde and much less buff.

Valerie had to shake her head, and blink really hard at the ground. It was getting harder to stay focused when the dehydration and exhaustion kept creeping back.

“Anyone have water?”

That seemed to break the argument Cassandra and Varric were having. “Here, Val,” the dwarf said softly, pulling out a waterskin from underneath his coat. “I promise it’s water, or at least, melted snow.” Valerie took it gratefully, and pulled the stopper out. The water was cool, but no colder than the air around them.

“Not wine, Varric?”

“Where are you getting these accusations from, Seeker?” Varric took the waterskin back without a word, and whipped around towards Cassandra. “I drink water just like everyone else. Surprisingly, I’m a living person.”

Valerie felt much better after the water. The dryness in her throat wasn’t gone, but she felt less of an ache in her body. Normally she always kept a water bottle or mug of tea in the same room at all times. Thedas probably didn’t have the same hydration emphasis that they did back home.

Home. Goddammit. This wasn’t it. This was a place with magic, elves and dwarves, templars and mages, spies and kings, darkspawn and archdemons. What the fuck was she doing here? She didn’t belong here!

A hand touched her shoulder, the previously injured one, and she winced back. “I apologize,” Cassandra said quickly, taking the hand away. Apparently, the arguing stopped. “We should keep going. Leliana is waiting at the forward camp.”

They continued onwards. Valerie picked up a helmet from a dead body, thankful for the protection. It was enough effort to stab in the right directions, protecting her head and neck may not be a priority. Demons came, they fought, and Valerie managed to get out with only a scrape to her hands, and a cut to her leg. She downed a potion anyways, hoping adrenaline would make up the rest.

Barriers were the strangest feeling. Solas would wave his staff, and a bluish film would cover her all over. The magic was slightly tingly. It would inevitably break or wear down after a time, though she suspected it helped her keep a finger or two.

They _finally_ got to the forward camp. Soldiers ran back and forth, orders were being shouted over the sound of wind and fade magic. Valerie gulped. It felt like her head was floating again. “Varric, could I have some more water?”

“Here you are.” The waterskin was place in her hand without her really seeing Varric do it. She muttered a thanks, and drank. Hopefully it would help keep her head from flying off, either from a demon slash or from the inevitable breakdown.

Leliana was talking with Roderick, and when Cassandra marched straight up to them, Valerie had little choice but to follow.

Maybe she was really, really too floaty for this, because she didn’t really catch most of what was being said. The conversation itself existed already in her memory, but she didn’t _really_ know what was going on. Ser Roderick had the exact same pompous asshole voice, and that couldn’t be possible. Could it?

“What do you think?”

She blinked. The snow seemed too white, and the Breach too green. “We save the scouts.” That was the script, right? Or at least, close enough.

It apparently was, because they continued onwards, walking and climbing and fighting. The adrenaline wasn’t coming as fast, or maybe she was just so fucking exhausted. After the rift was closed and the demons killed and the scouts saved, she downed another potion. It helped the head-floating, but her limbs were still dead tired.

“You shouldn’t take too many of those in quick succession.” Solas was standing next to her, a hand on her shoulder.

“Probably,” she breathed in reply. She didn’t have the energy for something witty, or something intelligent right now. Maybe like ‘your mom.’ Oh, that would actually be funny. “Your MOM shouldn’t take so many in quick succession.”

Solas’ face was…not amused, but not particularly bothered. Hard to say. For an immortal elven god, his emotions were always so outward. It’s possible her brain was ignoring everything that didn’t need stabbing.

Varric laughed, though, and it made her smile and turned to him. “Oh, that’s a good one, if a little late on the delivery. Baldy is right though, you need to pace yourself.”

“I’m doing good for someone with no combat experience.”

There was a pause, and the three others exchanged looks. Varric was the one to speak up first. “You’re surprisingly adept at this, did you ever get trained?” They started walking along towards the temple, but she was just tired enough to answer without a care.

“As a kid yeah, I think my mom just wanted me out of her hair. Stopped at like, 12. I don’t think the rock climbing I do counts as training, but I’ve got good stamina.” Valerie giggled to herself. “Ah, if only I ever found a partner with similar stamina.”

“A partner?” Varric asked, obviously amused.

“A partner for sex. The stamina is for fucking. Mattress dancing. Although, I never liked that euphemism, because you can fuck over a counter, on a couch, in bathtub, inside a—"

The noise Cassandra made was amusing, if not hilarious in its high pitched choked-off way. “We are almost there!” she said, much faster than normal, resulting in a thicker accent. Varric laughed again.

Their light mood quickly sobered at the view of the charred, stiff corpses standing upright, even in death. It looked like they were made of stone, black and burnt as they were. There were a few that had metal fused into their skin, melted from the explosion and cooling on their bodies, still just as blackened as the others. Soldiers, or maybe the mercenaries that were supposed to have been at the Conclave.

The floating feeling that came after each of the fights suddenly went away, leaving her with a sickening weight in her stomach. Her body was rebelling it, rejecting it, wanting it out and away.

She collapsed to her knees and vomited on the black, dead ground. It was mostly watered down healing potion. Fuck, she hated throwing up. She closed her eyes to the liquid on the ground and the death around her, and tried to breathe away the sickness she felt. In for two, out for three. In for two, out for three. Then in for three, out for four. Breathe, and slow down.

By the time the nausea had gone away, she could feel a hand on her shoulder, and hear Solas murmuring in elven, speaking in a calming voice. The hand was actually Cassandra’s, judging by the gauntlet.

“Hey, kid, you’re doing great,” Varric offered.

“’m not a kid,” she said weakly. “24 year old woman. Fully capable.”

“You still make me feel old. Not your fault.” Varric’s voice had something close to pity in it. Considering her current state, pity was probably an appropriate reaction from her battle partners. They slowly made their way down to the temple, her legs shaking and her stomach still feeling heavy.

Leliana and her archers must be coming up, because there were sounds of soldiers chatting and heavy footsteps. Valerie wiped at her mouth, and hoped she didn’t look too pale. Time to look strong, and wave around some Fade magic and hope the world wouldn’t end.

Cassandra and Leliana chatted, while Valerie took a couple sips from Varric’s waterskin. It wouldn’t be enough to vomit again. Then again, it had always been the first thing she did when sick…she really shouldn’t think too hard about it.

Their voices floated over her like how the wind blew. Ashes danced in the chapel’s ruins. What if those ashes had been a person? So many people had died here. There had never been a number for those loses in the game. Hell, the only name they ever really got was Divine Justinia V.

Valerie finally noticed the smell. It wasn’t quite ash, or blood, or rot, or explosives. It was…wrong. It wasn’t nothing, but it was like if petrichor had an opposite. Not the red lyrium, that had a sound, not a smell. The wind blew, making it stronger.

“It’s coming from the fade,” she murmured to herself.

Solas interrupted his explanation. “What is?”

“That smell. The wrongness.” Valerie pointed. “The Fade has a smell.”

There were a couple beats of silence. Cassandra scrunched up her nose, maybe because she smelled it too, maybe because she was confused at the concept.

Valerie sighed. It didn’t matter, they had a danger to face. “It’ll be a pride demon.”

“What?” Leliana asked, right before Cassandra asked the same.

“On the other side of that fade rift is a pride demon. We could easily die. I’ll need to disrupt the rift in order to lower the demon’s guard, but every time I do that, several other demons will be let loose. He’ll have electrical powers and it’ll have significant range for some attacks, but long range for more powerful blasts. He only attacks what’s in front of him.”

“How do you know this?” Leliana was quickly getting suspicious.

Fuck, how to explain that? Well, Oracle of Delphi was always an appealing, if tragic, figure, why not go for it? “I’ve seen this already. Call it a vision or a dream, whatever. Everything up until now has been the same. The dungeon, the bridge explosion, the scouts, the fucking _corpses_. I don’t want us to die, so I think it’s time for some warning.”

“Hold on,” Varric interrupted. “Demons I can handle, but prophecy? I’ll admit to swallowing a spoonful of nugshit every once in a while, but don’t ask me to believe that.”

Valerie glared. She liked Varric, always did, but right now, she didn’t want to fuck around. “Your crossbow is named after your girlfriend, who ran from at least one marriage ceremony to the guy her family picked.”

 _That_ seemed to get his attention. His eyes widened. “I, uh, you could’ve found that out from select sources.”

“Leliana, you’re incredibly devout but you’ll kill for the Divine. You always felt guilty about it. You hope to carry her legacy on by doing the same things for the Inquisition. Cassandra, you have way too many middle names, you’re technically a princess, and you like Varric’s Sword and Shield series.”

Solas was not on the chopping block right now. No way she could trust her tired brain to say something that would set the immortal brat off.

“Is that proof enough for you?”

Silence.

“I hope that’s good enough, because know this: I don’t want any of us to die. Not here, not when there’s so much work left to do. You can ask me some goddamn questions later, but for now, we need to fight. We’re fighting a pride demon. Cover me while I disrupt the rift, stay away from its front when it’s charging up a big ball of light.”

Cassandra seemed to get the message, because she had that determined, almost angry look on her face. Leliana took a moment after the swords were out to just nod. That woman would definitely be asking some questions.

Varric must’ve been very shocked, because he didn’t make any jabs to Cassandra about her literary preferences.

Solas…Solas didn’t make eye contact. He gripped his staff, and faced the rift, and waited to follow someone’s lead.

“Right. Don’t die. We can beat this thing, but don’t fuck around.”

“You’re quite the motivator,” Varric said with a dry chuckle.

Leliana seemed to decide something, and rushed off with her archers to find positions. As Cassandra started leading the way forwards, a deep voice rang out in the temple’s ruins.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Shit. Corypheus. That voice was so much more terrifying to hear when it surrounded her. It was like the voice was reaching into her ears, touching her skull, and crushing it in its grip.

Valerie focused on walking while the others talked. One step in front of the other. Until the voice spoke again. “Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone! Help me!” Justinia’s voice was somehow worse than Corypheus’s. It was so distorted and pained and panicked. Maybe she was that exhausted, because she wanted to cry at hearing it.

Hearing her own voice was very jarring. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” said the fade-Valerie. Fuck, is that what she sounded like? How did anyone stand to listen to her voice when it was like _that_?

The fade, ever so kind with its exposition, showed a shadowed version of the events. Justinia tied up in red, tainted magic, and Corypheus with his red, tainted eyes.

The dialogue played again, except this time, Valerie got to see herself walking in on the scene. The fade-Valerie looked tired as hell, wearing her cardigan, leggings and sneakers. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” said the fade-Valerie once again.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” Maybe her head was hurting too much, because the distortion seemed even worse now.

“We have an intruder. Slay the human.” Those red eyes and sharp, shadowed finger were pointed at her. Well, the fade version of her. This was getting confusing. 

“Not today, bitch!” the fade-Valerie called out, before the vision shattered into tiny pieces of non-material magic.

Varric was the first to speak up. “You know, if this wasn’t so damn weird, I’d applaud you for your response.”

“It’s so damn weird, I’m pretty sure I thought it wasn’t real.” Valerie felt like laughing. Her head hurt again.

If her memory was correct, Cassandra would be yelling questions at the Herald in the game about now. This Cassandra was silent. Silent, and staring at where the vision had been before shattering.

“You weren’t lying,” she muttered. “You aren’t lying about being a seer, and you aren’t lying about what happened. The wardens…”

Maybe she had said too much already. Well, if anyone could shove aside panic to face the threat in front of them, it was Cassandra. Valerie put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You can think about the how and the why later. Right now, we need your strength.”

Not her most well-spoken, but it was enough for Cassandra to get that determination back. She drew her sword and shield. Holy shit, she looked terrifying like that. “Stand ready! There will be demons!” she shouted to the soldiers around them.

“Y’all ready?” Valerie asked the other two. Varric looked like he might’ve been in another place mentally, but he snapped out of it. Solas’s face was unreadable, and he still wasn’t making eye contact. Oh well, he was looking at the rift, and that would have to be good enough for now.

With a breath, Valerie stepped further into the ruins of the chapel, held out her hand, and connected to the rift.

The fight could’ve taken hours, minutes, or decades. Valerie must’ve run out of adrenaline long ago. Running on health potions and barely-aware determination. She fought anyways. Daggers slicing at the back of the demon’s legs while Cassandra slashed and blocked at the front. Archers focused on the lesser demons that poured out of the rift.

Every once in a while, Valerie would see magic come over the demon, and no attack could penetrate it. Each time, she’d run to the rift. Connecting with the rift wasn’t painful, in the way a full-body muscle cramp wasn’t painful. She was almost glad her arm was going numb.

Hours or days or minutes later, the demon fell to its knees, then fell to the ground. Valerie barely turned, held up her hand from her side, and connected again to the rift.

Her entire left side seize up. The magic coursed through her, trying but failing to flow, and instead forcing its way through her veins. She was probably screaming.

She definitely passed out.


	2. Happy Birthday, Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so now I'm at 103k words, but it's a mess. No one said large-scale canon divergence would be easy

Valerie woke up. Surprising, considering how poorly things ended yesterday. Or had she been asleep for more than a day? Either way, she felt sore, but the now-familiar sense of potion-healing was dulling some of it.

She tried to open her eyes, but everything hurt worse when she did. Light too bright, eyes burning with dryness, head aching. Too much, too soon. Okay then, eyes are staying closed. She felt itchiness in her throat which probably meant she wanted some water right now, but holy shit, she did not want to move.

She went back to sleep.

* * *

Valerie woke up. Again. The thirst was overwhelming, so despite the pain in getting up and looking around, she did those things just to find some fucking _water_.

There was a pitcher and a cup, and she immediately started drinking. Fuck the cup: directly from the pitcher. God, this was the best feeling she’d ever had. Water. Perfect. It tasted especially clean, none of that trace minerals or whatever. Her throat, head, and even her eyes felt so much better.

After a moment, she made herself stop. No use overdrinking just to vomit it back up. And, right, breathing was a thing.

So she breathed. Everything was pained and sore, so sitting up wasn’t going to be something she could do for long.

The door opened, and an elf woman walked in, quietly carrying a tray until she was halfway in the room. Then she stopped. And stared.

“You’re awake!”

“Ah, yes.” Valerie supposed it was good to have confirmation.

The elf stumbled to the ground, bowing, head almost touching the ground and arms stretched outwards.

“Oh, please don’t,” Valerie said faintly.

“The people are calling you Herald of Andraste! You were saved by her, and you stopped the Breach growing! You were sent to us to save us!”

Every muscle screamed at her, but Valerie refused to stay still. She slid off the bed to her knees, landing only a couple inches from the reach of the woman’s hands. She took one of those hands in hers, gently. “Hey, it was the least I could do. What’s your name?”

The woman turned her head up. The light made her expression seem half terrified, half awed, though it was hard to tell which one was intended. “Leena, your worship.”

“Leena. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Valerie. I want to help, so please tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

Her mouth didn’t smile, but the tears that welled in her eyes were enough to communicate the joy. “You—I—Thank you, your Worship.”

“Thank _you_ , Leena.” Valerie had always felt awkward around gratitude. It usually worked to say thank you in return, but the woman was just so damn awed by her right now, nothing would redirect attention away. Well, except, “Where’s Cassandra? I’d like to talk with her.”

Leena stumbled back onto her feet. Looking at her now, it was obvious her proportions were off, legs too long and torso too small and arms too skinny. Malnourishment? She’d never seen elves in her life, so there was no telling if this was a natural build in elves.

“The Lady Seeker said to tell her as soon as you woke up. Right away, she said.” With that, Leena rushed off, barely remembering to close the door behind her.

Valerie relaxed against the side of the bed. It was time for that conversation with the inner circle. The one where she explained how she knew the future. That was going to take a lot out of her. She’d at least like some food before the shitshow began. It was evening, judging by the light out the window, but tea would be nice as well.

She let out a long exhale. The idea of standing, let alone walking, felt like too much. Was there something like crutches in here? A quick examination told her, no, not unless she felt like using an iron poker like a cane. Actually…

It took some maneuvering, but she leaned over far enough to grab the poker against the fireplace. It was as heavy as she expected, and rough against her skin. It could make a good weapon too, if someone got any ideas. The Herald of Andraste started off very unpopular.

The poker worked well in helping her stand up. Thankfully, her coat was on a table and boots by the door. There were blisters on her feet, but the Chantry couldn’t be too far, so she’d be fine.

As evidenced by the first set of stairs, it was not fine.

There were many people watching her, and she tried to keep her panting and struggling to a minimum, but that didn’t stop the conversations she could overhear. People criticizing her, or praising her, or both.

By the time she made it to the Chantry, she was panting quietly and sweating. It was an odd sensation, to be so hot and sweaty in a place so freezing. She didn’t like it. She had lived in Miami, this was not her native environment.

Cassandra found her at the door of the Chantry. “You are awake. You have some explaining to do.”

“Happy,” she panted, “to talk. Just get, me a meal, and some tea. Please.”

The panting apparently alarmed Cassandra. “You’re having trouble walking. Should you be resting more?”

“Fuck that,” she said on an exhale. “I could, stand to sit.” She shot a grin at Cassandra, who apparently, didn’t appreciate the play on words enough to stop being concerned.

A short Chantry sister walked by. “You there, Sister Kleine,” Cassandra snapped harshly. The sister stopped, and paled. “Get a hot meal and tea to the meeting room.”

“Please,” Valerie added, and giving another smile.

The sister nodded, a bit less terrified, and ran off.

Cassandra helped Valerie to the war room. When they approached, she could overhear the argument that Ser Roderick was instigating. Most of the time, posh British accents were a very positive, if attractive trait to her, because they were fun to listen to. Ser Roderick, however, took it too far. Mostly because he was a dick.

The man was arguing loudly with Leliana, and upon seeing Cassandra and Valerie, stopped. “Ah, I see you came back with the heretic. Guards, chain her! I want her prepared and brought to the capital for trial.”

Cassandra didn’t even seem to get annoyed at the abuse of authority. “Disregard that. Leave us.” The guards nodded, and stepped out the war room without a word.

Valerie immediately found a chair in the corner of the room, and sat down. The poker remained in her hand, stood up on the stone ground. If Roderick got out of hand, she’d be _very_ willing to use it against him.

“Seeker, you cannot be serious. She is useless! A heretic! Just a stupid…” it took him a moment to find his words. “girl!”

“Ooh, cutting,” Valerie murmured sarcastically. Leliana apparently overheard it, because a corner of her lips tugged into a smile. Just barely.

Cassandra approached the table, and indirectly, approached Roderick. The height difference was very obvious when they were this close together. Cassandra _towered_ over him. “The Breach is stable, but it is still there, Ser Roderick. Valerie has risked her life to help us this far.”

Roderick didn’t want to take that sitting down. “But she lives! Rather convenient, for someone who potentially caused all this in the first place.”

Oh, madre mia, this bastard actually thought her capable of that. She supposed it was something like a compliment, if an accusatory one.

Leliana stepped closer to the table. Her arms were crossed, the gloves (or were they gauntlets?) standing out. Who knows what weapons she was hiding within reach. “She saw what actually happened in the Chantry, we’ve seen ourselves the entity that caused the Breach, and we’ve been able to track sources to verify. So far, her account had been truthful.”

Wait, what sources? Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What was Leliana doing, exactly? They weren’t supposed to hunt down the Grey Wardens for a while. Could she have found people already? Or maybe she was just connecting the dots sooner?

“What, that the Grey Wardens had something to do with this? I can’t believe you’re buying into her lies!” Roderick was furious. It was a good look on him, since Valerie was happy to see him upset. “I refuse to believe the very people who save us from the Blight could do something so corrupt.”

Valerie couldn’t help but laugh. Corrupt. What an interesting choice of words.

That got Roderick’s attention. “And you! How _dare_ you accuse the Grey Wardens of your crimes! How _dare_ you claim to be the Herald of our very Andraste! You’re nothing but an ignorant, unqualified girl!”

Valerie leaned back in her chair. She had caught her breath by now, so her voice was even as she spoke. “And you, Ser Roderick, are nothing but a little bitch.”

Either Roderick didn’t expect that, or he got so furious that he couldn’t say anything. She continued.

“You’re useless right now. Shouting at anything you don’t understand because you’re _scared_. I’d expect more of a man of your standing. But then again, I don’t think a man like you was made for hard times and disaster. So, do us a favor, and let the grownups talk.”

“You little—how dare—what kind of—" Roderick sputtered. He turned to Cassandra. “Seeker, you cannot let this stand.”

Given the look on Cassandra’s face, she absolutely _would_ let this stand. “I rather think she has a point.” The Seeker stepped away from the table, and came back with a large book, slamming it on the table. “You know what this is, Chancellor?”

“This cannot be.”

“ _This_ is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She began advancing on Roderick. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

There were a few more aborted sentences, until the man gave up. He glared at Valerie, turned around, and left. The door slammed behind him.

“Thank the Maker,” Leliana sighed. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the table. “I’d thought I’d have to threaten him before he’d leave.”

“Like you wouldn’t enjoy doing it,” Cassandra shot back. Valerie laughed.

The two quieted. Leliana and Cassandra looked back at her, sitting in the corner, lit barely by the torchlight. Leliana sighed, and sat in her chair again.

“You will be key to the Inquisition, Valerie.” Leliana had said her name with a slight French accent. Or rather, an Orlesian accent. “We cannot demand it of you, but we’d ask that you join us. We’ve no numbers, no leader, and now, no Chantry support. We have nothing, if not you and your mark.”

Oh. Valerie had never considered abandoning the Inquisition before it really took off. She still wasn’t really considering it, not when so many of those people out there needed her.

Besides, she was here, and she was the Herald. This wasn’t a dream, this was a place with people and with magic beyond her understanding. So if there was something she could do against the apocalyse, then she should do it.

“Absolutely.”

Leliana and Cassandra both sighed in relief.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know for a fact that we’re going to build something great.”

That seemed to bring their attention back to the elephant in the room. “That was something you said we could discuss. Your…”

“Foreknowledge? Visions of the future? Ookey-spooky prophecies?” Valerie offered.

“Your foresight, yes,” Leliana said quickly, strained.

A knock came on the door. Cassandra opened it, and in came Josephine with her writing board, and Cullen with a tray of food and tea.

The sight was so absurd, Valerie couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. The Commander of the great Inquisition, carrying someone else’s food and tea like an unpaid intern.

The two advisors had walked directly past her to stand at the war table, not even noticing her in her corner. “I, uh, received this from a sister,” Cullen offered, embarrassed and setting it down at the table.

Josephine seemed quite cheery, and was writing on her board while walking. “I saw that your conversation with Ser Roderick ended well.”

“As well as it could’ve gone,” Cassandra replied, uncrossing her arms.

“Like a dog barking at the moon,” Valerie added. This seemed to surprise Josephine, given how she nearly dropped her writing board as she jumped. Valerie couldn’t help but smile at that.

“My apologies, my lady,” Josephine said, one hand touching her chest. “I did not notice you. I suppose those tales of your rogue capabilities were no lies.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t go that far, but thanks anyways.”

Josephine stepped forward. “I am Josephine Montilyet, the current Ambassador for the Inquisition.”

Valerie gave a smile. Josephine was always so charming. She held a hand out to shake. “Valerie Garcia, the apparent Herald of Andraste.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Josephine shook the hand. It looked like she wanted to curtsey, given how her feet were positioned. It was endearing. “And this is Cullen,” Josephine continued, gesturing to the Commander.

“Cullen Rutherford. Commander to the Inquisition forces. I’m glad to see you’re okay.” He was standing on the other side of the table, and gave a small bow.

“That’s sweet of you, Cullen, thank you.” She gave her warmest smile. Sure enough, he seemed a bit surprised, if not flustered at the attention.

Her stomach growled. God, she’d probably not eaten in days. The food seemed to be a stew of some kind, and it smelled delicious. With a groan, she stood up, leaning heavily on the poker. “Cassandra, could you move the chair for me? I don’t think I can.” Especially since these were sturdy wooden chairs.

Cassandra obliged, and placed the chair in front of the table. “Cullen? Slide me the food?” Cullen carefully took the bowl and spoon from the tray, and placed it in front of her. What a gentle guy.

She leaned the poker against the table, within reach. Just in case. As she started eating the soup (which tasted like heaven, but was probably very basic), she looked at each one. With them standing, and her sitting, she felt like she was on trial. In a way, that was true.

“Right, I didn’t get to do you two earlier. Josephine, your family is broke, and has been staving off interest on debt by selling land and estates, all because of the Du Paraquettes. You used to be a bard for the Orlesian court. You regret the first death you caused. Cullen. You’ve been through some shit. Kirkwall was still only the second worst nightmare in your life caused by mages. You’ve kept a coin given by your brother for good luck since before your templar training.”

That seemed to shift the mood. Josephine was certainly shocked, if her wide eyes and open mouth were any indication. Cullen wasn’t meeting her eyes, instead blinking at the table.

“That is what I was talking about,” Cassandra said, looking at Josephine. “She just _knows_ things about us. She said she’s a seer.”

“Well,” Josephine coughed. “I suppose if I didn’t believe you before, I do now.”

Cullen was watching Valerie now, but clearly talking to the others. “I thought true seers were just legend.”

“There’s a hole in the sky, and I fell out of the Fade. Welcome to legend.” Valerie took another sip (bite?) of her soup.

He sighed. “I suppose that’s true.” Something in his gaze, though, was…observing. Suspicious. Maybe he wanted to know how far her knowledge extended, and if that included his lyrium troubles.

Right, she should clarify one thing, so that everybody wouldn’t be suspicious of her. “I know a lot about each of you, and many others who will join the Inquisition. I intend to keep everybody’s secrets, so long as it doesn’t affect our efforts. I’ll swear it on whatever holy book or cause you see fit.”

“Not on the Maker, or Andraste?” Leliana asked.

“I’m not much of a believer. Only went to church once a year, growing up.” Whenever Dad was around, and felt like being a praying man.

She didn’t like thinking about it. She continued. “I know the path the Inquisition will take. I intend to help the Inquisition, but I need time to organize my thoughts and knowledge, and come up with a plan. I’ll happily dedicate the foresight I have available to me, as well as my life, towards the Inquisition and restoring order to Thedas.”

When Cullen spoke, he was quiet. “Does that mean we have a chance? Can the Inquisition succeed”

Lord, the man had been broken so many times. It was no wonder he needed to know. “Absolutely. But only as long as we _don’t_ fuck it up.”

Okay, yes, she was paraphrasing RuPaul, but it was appropriate, and she wasn’t here. She took another bite(sip? Drink?) of soup.

“Look, I’m going to be honest here. We’re in for some shit. It’s going to be a very long road to saving the world, but my mom always said to take it a day at a time. We’re going to start by talking to Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands, and settling some of the mage and templar fighting. Right, Leliana?”

That seemed to catch her off guard. “You know things to that level of detail?”

“It varies. I don’t know everything. You all certainly have your work cut out for you. I can’t emphasize this enough, thought: you have to make your own decisions on what’s best.”

“So you don’t know the best merchants to invite to Haven? I was hoping you’d know.” Josephine sounded defeated.

“Actually, I know of someone in Val Royeaux, can’t remember her name. I’ll speak to her when I get a chance, but feel free to look ahead.”

“Oh! Wonderful, thank you, Herald.” Josephine started scratching notes on her writing board.

Cassandra spoke up next. “Out of curiosity, does your…insight come to you as dreams?”

Fuck. Lie. “No, it uh…” Oh, idea. “It was more like I was hit over the head with all the knowledge at once. I think it’s because of the explosion.” It was plausible enough, and explained why it took her time to come clean about the foresight. Processing the impossible, and all that.

“So you need to write everything down _now_ , before you forget?” Leliana’s tone was almost motherly, in that ‘you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to be doing right now’ kind of way.

“I’ll get you supplies,” Josephine said cheerfully. She placed her writing board on the table, and left the room.

“You received the mark and your foresight all at once?” Cassandra continued.

“I guess. How long was I out, after the explosion?”

“About 6 hours.”

“It felt like longer. I guess processing years of visions of the future does that.” Damn, Valerie was really selling this lie. Good for her. “I’m no mage, before you ask, so I really don’t know what magic is involved.”

“Solas would perhaps be our best source. He investigated the magic in your mark while you were resting.”

It was creepy to think of Solas touching her while she was asleep. The man would probably happily chop off her arm, if it meant he could get the mark back for himself.

“Here.” Leliana offered her a cup of tea, and she happily took it. It was warmer than the room was, but not hot enough to need hesitation before drinking. Perfect. (Even if the taste was off from what she was used too.) “Your mark can close rifts, and it seems you are the only one who can do so. That means you have the responsibility to close rifts all across Thedas.”

“I guess.” Valerie quieted, thinking of how much walking that was going to be. There were so many rifts, so many demons. Hopefully, she wouldn’t die from something as simple as a lesser shade. But while fighting their way to the Breach, it sometimes felt that she’d die like that.

Josephine came back in, carrying a notebook, quill, and inkwell. “Here you are, Herald.”

Valerie happily took the notebook. “Thank you, Ambassador.” As if all her academic habits came back at once, she immediately opened to the first page, and wrote her name. It took a bit of fumbling to get the grip and pressure on the quill right.

“What script is that?” Leliana immediately asked. Damn, her eyes were sharp. “Is that Tevene?”

Wait. English script didn’t exist in Thedas. Common used a Nordic-like alphabet. And she couldn’t read that. Fuck.

“I’m from the Free Marches,” she threw out. “It’s not Qunari either, it’s something no one else can read.” Valerie was trying not to panic, and instead trying sound cryptic. She couldn’t have them thinking of her as being a part of either nations.

“I see. If you code your journal right, our enemies won’t be able to get their hands on your knowledge.” Leliana was smiling and nodding in approval.

Valerie was 2 for 2 in lying, thank God. Most importantly, she could move the conversation on. “I’m going to be weak and tired as shit for the next while. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave for the Hinterlands soon.”

“By all means, Herald, rest,” Cassandra started. “I will be going with you, but I have business to take care of first.”

“Oh dios mio, thank you,” Valerie sighed, head almost dropping to the table in relief. If she couldn’t walk properly now, there was no way she could fight anytime soon. And boy, was she going to have to fight. She felt so tired of it already.

“I noticed that you are still recovering, Herald,” Cullen said, slowly. “The first thing we teach recruits is to let injuries and soreness heal first before jumping into action. Otherwise, you risk training yourself incorrectly.”

“Noted. Thanks, Cullen.” Elfroot could help. Maybe she could pick elfroot while she was recovering. It would be a good excuse to walk around and get her energy back up, and help out the potion supplies.

The stew was finished, and Valerie gulped down the rest of her tea. “Hey, so I’m sure you guys have plans, and plenty of messages to get sent off, so go ahead and do that. I’ll hobble back to my cabin, and get started on that resting.”

Josephine, ever the charmer, said “I wish you a pleasant and restorative night,” and left for her office. Cassandra just nodded and leaned back over the papers. Leliana also nodded, and took the tray with the bowl and used cup, but left the other cups and tea.

As Valerie struggled to stand up, leaning on the poker again, she found that Cullen had come to her side. “Oh, hello Cullen,” she said, somewhat airily. The blood was rushing from her head, in her defense, and making everything spin slightly.

“Hello, Herald. I’d be happy to walk you back to your cabin.”

Valerie considered saying no, on principle, but it would give her a good chance to talk to him alone. The lyrium withdrawals were probably starting to kick in, and he’d need all the support he could get.

“I’d appreciate that.” She took his arm. Surprisingly, they were actually the same height. The fur on his shoulders always made him look taller, if not broader. The support he offered with his arm was strong and comforting. Using him as well as poker made walking relatively easy. Cullen was nice enough to carry her notebook and writing supplies in his other arm.

They walked slowly. It was just barely dark outside. She’d call it twilight, but she never really figured out what that was supposed to be, besides a crappy vampire romance novel. Oh well.

“So, Cullen, tell me. What are you curious about that you didn’t ask in front of the others?”

That must’ve caught him off guard. He let out a surprised sound that honestly would’ve been cute if she wasn’t feeling so serious right now.

“I, uh, would rather ask in a more private setting.”

Understandable. Even though it was late evening, there were a few people walking around, and could potentially overhear them. Valerie let the rest of their walk stay silent.

“Come on in,” Valerie said, opening her door. She should see about getting a key, or a lock for this door. It was dangerous to not have one. Valerie made her way to sit on her bed. “So, what do you want to ask?”

Cullen put down the notebook, quill and inkwell, then stood next to the table, fidgeting. That was definitely cute. Perhaps she shouldn’t find him so cute, given that he tried so hard to appear as a strong leader and commander. Well, she was allowed to find him cute, as long as she didn’t say it.

“Do you know about…” he started. He didn’t finish, instead looking to her, hoping she would understand.

“I know a lot. You’re going to have to be specific.”

He grimaced. “You mentioned the mages and nightmares, does that mean you know about…Kinloch?”

Right. Valerie never played Origins, so she didn’t know a lot. Just that he was essentially tortured by mages. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know it’s had a great effect on you.”

He took a deep breath. Whether it was for courage, relief, or dread, she didn’t know. “And the lyrium?”

She gave a grim smile. “Withdrawals are a bitch, aren’t they?”

He sighed, and sat at the table. He was facing towards the windowpanes: not quite looking away from her, but definitely not at her. “I guess I’m glad I don’t have to tell anyone else. Cassandra has been nice enough, but I can’t rely on her.”

Valerie wanted to laugh. What a silly, overly-independent man. “You can absolutely rely on her, and you know that.”

There was an audible swallow. “You know me very well, don’t you?”

Oh. The way he said that was both relieved and disturbed. It made sense. “I know some things, but not everything,” she settled on saying.

It was quiet for a minute. Well, as quiet as it could be with Cullen thinking so loudly.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, none of it is your fault. You’ve been through shit, and you’re trying to make things right.”

Even through the fur on his shoulders, the tendon in his jaw visibly jumped from clenching his teeth. “I can’t say I agree.”

Is this what parents felt like? Seeing their kids go through hell, and being able to offer nothing but what their child will accept? Is this what Mom felt like, when Valerie struggled with so many things through high school and college?

Part of her wanted to snap at Cullen, make him understand her point of view, that he was truly a good person. But the rest of her knew that it couldn’t be forced, and it would be better to give him space and time.

Valerie managed to stand up (without groaning horribly), and walk over to Cullen. All she could do was put a hand on the man’s right one, and say, “if you ever need someone who you don’t have to explain yourself to, come to me. You’re not alone.”

The man nodded. Despite his stoic face, Valerie could see his blinking up close. Like he was trying to keep away tears.

“What was it you said to me today? Give yourself a break so you don’t heal wrong. I think it applies to this too.”

Suddenly, he stood up, almost knocking his chair over in the process. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, my lady. I’ll take my leave.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, watching as he hurried out the door. She was too tired to fight his departure.

She collapsed into bed, and sighed.

Happy Birthday, Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the readers: how many of you guys would side with the Templars over the mages? If so, why? Because even if I had a Templar playthrough, I struggle with giving them a second chance. (Note: please keep comments civil)


	3. Groundwork Pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so this chapter was originally going to be 9k words so I split it. I promise, miss thang is going to be leaving Haven soon, we're just making sure she gets oriented properly.

Valerie had watched enough Doctor Who to know that altering the timeline could have very significant consequences. Not all of them good.

But it couldn’t be helped at this point. She’d already shared what really happened at the Conclave, and several balls were already rolling.

And to be honest, Valerie didn’t have much to bring to the table as Inquisitor or Herald. No Chantry background, no camping and travelling experience, no noble upbringing, no combat training, no magic, nothing. The only thing she could offer as Inquisitor would be knowledge of the future.

And if the future was already getting shifted, she was going to make damn sure that it would get changed for the better.

She spent the morning scratching notes about the original plot, important side quests, character quests, dialogue choices, character relationships and approval, epilogue content, influence towards Divine Victoria outcomes, war table operations, enemy weaknesses, _everything_.

It was a lot.

When her hand was cramping and lunch was being called, she had come to three different conclusions.

First: she needed a personal assistant. There was no way she could keep track of all this information by herself, not when she was running around Thedas. She’d have to ask Leliana about this, because this would have to be someone trustworthy and with good judgement, and able to keep a fuckload of secrets.

Second: she needed combat training. Badly. Being the Herald meant lots of fighting, and lots of chances to die. Call her crazy, but she preferred to be somewhat competent at it. Again, Leliana would probably be the best person to ask, given her current preference for daggers. (Knowing her luck, if she tried a bow, she’d end up shooting party members more often than enemies.)

Third: she wouldn’t be able to keep her origins secret for long. She’d said to someone friendly at breakfast that she was a traveler from the Free Marches, but that story wouldn’t hold up to any amount of scrutiny.

With a deep breath, she entered Leliana’s tent. “Two things,” Valerie said, catching the woman’s attention.

The Nightingale turned from her hunched position over the table. Her face was already a mask of wariness and suspicion. Mierda, the woman was paranoid. “Only if I can ask two things in return.”

“Fair. Me first.” She crossed her arms to hold her coat closed against the frigid breeze. “It’s not urgent, but I need a personal assistant. Somebody who will have my knowledge, and the right kind of judgment to guide you guys while I’m away.”

“And why can’t that be myself?”

Valerie had considered that. “My foreknowledge cannot interfere with your operations, except where you would allow them. If you know everything at the start, then we might take dangerous shortcuts.”

That made her eyes narrow. “You cannot expect me to make the same mistakes as your foresight saw. This is a chance to do better. I cannot waste time gathering knowledge you could easily provide.” Valerie felt her chest tighten at the anger in Leliana’s voice.

“Lord knows I understand that, Nightingale, but I’ve thought about it. I may know important parts, but favor, knowledge, or even lives could be lost if we take my memory of the future as fact.” The game certainly didn’t get into all the nitty-gritty details of what Leliana, Josephine and Cullen did. They couldn’t afford to change their methodology.

Leliana crossed her arms. Something in her face seemed to soften though, and Valerie almost sighed in relief. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry about it, Leliana, but you can’t trust my judgement above yours. I do intend to save time on certain fronts. You’re already on the Warden’s case, and if we do it right, we might be able to save a lot of Wardens from their fate.”

Leliana inhaled sharply. “The Wardens as a whole are at risk?”

“Just the Orlesian ones, I think,” Valerie answered. She felt uneasy about answering Leliana’s question, but the cat was already out of the bag on the Warden’s involvement. Leliana needed direction on that front.

“I see. I will work on that. In the meantime, I’ll find your person.”

“Thank you.” Deep breath. “What is the first thing you wanted to ask me?”

Leliana focused on Valerie, seeming to watch her closely. “Do you know of any double agents in my ranks?”

Ah, she should’ve expected that. Based on what came up in Trespasser, there were tons, both from the Qun and Fen’harel. But this early, she would only sow distrust and paranoia by saying as such.

She pulled out her notebook as she spoke, trying to find a certain page. “As far as I know, only two. Butler, and another man eventually stationed in Crestwood, called Painter.” Damn, apparently she didn’t have the exact names. “I’m not sure if those are codenames or real names. Sorry.”

Leliana seemed a bit disappointed, either at the names themselves or her lack of clarity, but nodded nonetheless. “Your second request?” she asked, writing a couple notes on her paper.

“I need combat training.” Leliana laughed sharply. “Yeah, I’m sure Cassandra and Varric have said exactly how badly I need it. I don’t want to die either. I figure you know someone who is better as knives than someone Cullen would know.”

Leliana nodded in agreement. “I have one or two people I could spare. I will warn you, they will not go easy on you.” There was something like a question in that statement, or rather, a dare.

To be honest, she’d never done well under strict teachers. They’d always seem to cling too much to their authority to make themselves feel better, and never used it right. But maybe that was just academia. This was _survival_. “I’ll adjust.” If she didn’t, she could very well die.

That answer seemed to settle something in Leliana, some of the tenseness in her shoulders releasing. “I had worried. You come across as very highborn, and I don’t exactly have gentle people in my ranks.”

Valerie laughed at the truth in Leliana’s words, but the comment stuck. “Highborn?”

That made Leliana sigh. She turned around and picked up a few papers in that script she couldn’t read. “Your name is Valerie Garcia. You’re obviously some sort of highborn, but I can find no record of a Garcia family in the Free Marches, where you claim to be from.” Leliana turned back towards Valerie, that signature suspicion of hers returning to her expression. “I suppose that brings me to my next question. Who are you, really?”

Fuck. She knew the question would come, but she wasn’t expecting it so soon. But what could she do? She had to trust Leliana with the Inquisition’s secrets, and she was part of the Inquisition now. So…

Fuck, she had to tell her, didn’t she?

“Do you have somewhere more private to talk?”

Leliana’s gaze sharpened, like a hawk zeroing in on prey. “The dungeons.”

Valeria grimaced at the idea of returning there. “Fine. Let’s go.”

It was much easier to walk today, even if the stairs were a strain on her legs. She tried to think of how she’d approach this. Where could she even start? The truth was hard to believe.

There was, thankfully, a couple of stools outside the empty cells. Leliana didn’t immediately sit, but Leliana also wasn’t the type to swoon and faint at the truth.

“I’ll ask you to suspend your disbelief. It’s, uh, a weird explanation. I promise I’ll answer all your questions.”

Leliana tilted her head, which would’ve been cute if it had been anyone but Leliana. Curiosity of the Nightingale was usually dangerous. “I can make no promises.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Valerie took a deep breath, the cold dank air doing little to calm her. She still didn’t know where to start. Maybe with what Leliana already knew. “Why do you think I’m highborn?”

That made Leliana scoff. “Where to start? Your fingernails are smooth, you walk as if you’ve never been injured, your hair is much longer and healthier than any commoner could manage, your face doesn’t have the right sharpness, the healers say that your ribs are smooth, you haven’t any missing teeth, you’ve the callouses of a scholar, and you’re remarkably shy about your toilet habits.”

Oh. Well, that would certainly explain it. The hair bit was surprising, actually. She assumed people in game had short hair because it of graphics difficulty. But Valerie’s hair, elbow-length, shiny and thick black hair was probably much less common in a world where many people were malnourished.

“Okay. What did you find about the name Garcia?”

“Josephine is certain it is of Antivan origin. And I’m willing to bet that Valerie is an Orlesian name. Again, none of it explains why you say you’re from the Free Marches.” Of course Leliana got that information. The friendly talker at breakfast was probably an undercover agent.

“Anything else you found out?”

Leliana’s tone seemed more irritated, probably getting impatient. “No, just that your accent makes you sound dwarfish or Qunari, and contradicts everything.”

Okay, that was a start. She couldn’t consolidate her being human and sounding like a dwarf or Qunari, which in Thedas, sounded American. Did Leliana suspect her of being viddathari? Maybe she should start with the basics.

“I’m not from Thedas.”

Leliana had been shifting her weight from foot to foot, but stopped the swaying at that. “Excuse me?”

“No matter how hard you look, you’re not going to find anything. Because I’m not from Thedas.”

The flickering light made it hard to see, but judging by the controlled breaths from Leliana, it was something she had a hard time processing. “That would at least explain the clothes we found you in.”

Valerie laughed. “Yeah, I don’t envy the healers who tried to get those pants off.”

“They had to just cut it off, eventually. It was a material they had never seen before.”

“And likely never will again.” Elastic wasn’t exactly common around here.

Leliana was silent for a minute more, nothing but the breathing and the drips of water into a puddle somewhere in the dungeon. Valerie let her process, watching as she shifted her weight between her feet.

“Where are you from, if not Thedas?”

“A city called Miami, in the United States. My mother was from the same place, but my father was from another country, an island called Cuba, and a city called Havana. They spoke a language like Antivan.”

“I’ve never heard of any of these places.”

Valerie gave a tight smile. “And you won’t find them anywhere. As far as I can tell, my world and Thedas exist on entirely separate dimensions.”

Leliana took a second to process that, eyes searching Valerie’s face. For what, she didn’t know. “If that’s true, then how do you speak our language?”

“What?” Of all the questions to ask.

“The common tongue. You speak it, but you are from an entirely different world. The likelihood of our languages being identical is infinitely small.”

Oh, god. Because the games were written in English. She was going to have to explain how Thedas existed in a video game anyways, so may as well explain it now. “Well, that’s going to require a long, and possibly unbelievable explanation.”

“You’re off to great start, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Valerie laughed. “I promise, I’m not doing it to be difficult. I want to share this with you, Leliana, and I want my secrets to be the Inquisition’s secrets.”

There was a hum from Leliana, sounding more like acceptance than anything she’d said thus far. “Alright.”

“So, in my world, there are devices you can use to play games. They’re pretty advanced, and show pictures and play sounds to help people get immersed.”

“Magic?”

“No, just really advanced technology.” Leliana seemed suspicious of that, but let Valerie continue. “Now, there are card games, and things like chess. Then there are more involved games that depict fighting and dialogue and even political intrigue, and play out more like a story with characters and morality debates and all.”

Leliana was getting antsy. “I’m failing to see what this has to do with anything.”

Valerie ignored that. “One such game was called Dragon Age.”

Something about that seemed to hit Leliana, and she became deathly still.

“It’s actually a series of games. The first was called Dragon Age: Origins. You play as a character who becomes the Hero of Ferelden, in a land called Thedas. You fight alongside people such as Zevran, Loghain, Morrigan, Alistair, and Leliana. Together, you end the Fifth Blight.”

Leliana’s breathing was getting more intense.

“The second game in this series follows the story of the Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke. It takes place in the same world, but in Kirkwall instead of Ferelden. You can play as a rogue, mage or fighter, and again fight with companions like Varric Tethras, Fenris, Anders, Isabela, Carver, Bethany and Merrill.

“The third game is called Dragon Age: Inquisition.”

Leliana’s voice was faint. “So that’s how you know what will happen. Your world has games depicting… _us_.”

Somehow, Leliana’s certainty and fear was far more terrible than she could have expected.

“Yes,” she made herself say. Her heart was beating in her ears and her stomach felt tight. She wasn’t looking at Leliana at this point, too fearful to watch her reaction. “You choose to be a human, elf, dwarf or Qunari, and you choose between playing a mage, rogue or fighter.” She laughed to herself. “I did always have the most fun playing a melee rogue. Funny how I ended up with daggers in real life.”

She shook herself, and refocused. “I played the game showing the Inquisition twice, but never the games showing the Champion or the Hero,” and that definitely made Leliana look up, she could feel the eyes on her. “But I heard bits and pieces from other people who played it.”

“Such as?” The tone was dangerous.

“I really don’t know much about the first game. I remember reading that the Hero’s actions decided who would rule Ferelden: Alistair or Anora, or both. The Hero could have married one or the other, or become Chancellor, or done something else, I don’t know. I just know possibilities, not what actually happened.”

Leliana laughed. “She always said she had no choice but to be Chancellor, with Alistair as King and Anora as Queen. Those two would be impossible otherwise. I wonder what she would’ve done knowing she had other options.”

Oh, so… “Do you keep in contact with her?”

“We haven’t spoken in a long time.” She sat down in her stool. Leliana must’ve been smiling, because the way her voice got soft and…happy made her sound much calmer than she had ever been in the game. “She was wonderful. I admired her, for knowing what must be done and having the strength to do it.”

Something about the way she said that… “You sound like you’ve mourned her. Is she still alive?”

The dry laugh she gave was obviously pained. “She lives. We had been…close. She didn’t want me after it was all over. According to her, my lies and shadows were that of a coward, at best, and a tool for evil at worst.”

Shit, the way she had talked about it, it sounded like they had been together, but obviously, the Hero rejected Leliana. In a really dickish way. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I know for a fact that those words aren’t true.”

Leliana was quiet for a bit. Maybe she was sad, maybe she was furious, or hating herself, or trying to process things. Or maybe all of the above. “I suppose I should take your word for it,” she finally said evenly.

Leliana crossed her arms again, and let out a slow breath. “So you’re from another world, a place with nothing in common with ours but the language. You’re going to need a better cover story than a traveler from the Free Marches. People are going to ask questions, and explaining your real background to people would get you a lot of enemies. We’re having a hard enough time managing rumors of your prophecy.”

Valerie nodded. “What do you recommend?”

“I’d have to look into some things first. I’m inclined to agree with you about being from the Free Marches, as it gives a reasonable explanation for your Antivan roots and your unfamiliarity with Orlais and Ferelden. Do you speak any Antivan?”

“Some.” Growing up in Miami meant a lot of exposure to Spanish. Between her father’s intermittent presence and her coworkers, she ended up understanding a lot, but not speaking very well.

“Okay, so we say that you grew up near the Antivan border. You were an illegitimate child of a merchant, raised by your mother, but occasionally supported by your father.”

What a coincidence. “That’s actually close enough to what happened.”

“But your name…” She tapped her chin in thought. “There are no Garcias to connect you to.”

“I don’t suppose we can say it was my mother’s name?”

She tilted her head slightly in consideration. “We could. Your mother could be an Antivan mistress, sequestered away and living off the riches of your father.”

After some discussion, Valerie’s story was decided. She was born to a Free Marcher father and an Antivan mother. Leliana would find a minor, moderately successful, and most importantly, dead merchant who could be named as her father. She grew up in an isolated house in the Free Marches, but finally left home upon her parents’ death, and travelled across Thedas, eventually ending up as a guest to the Conclave. Leliana would forge details later.

“You said that there were options for the would-be Herald. What did you mean by that?” Leliana asked, a look in her eyes hinting at something stronger than simple curiosity.

Right, Valerie had said there were options for the race. “Well, uh, if the Herald wasn’t me, then it would’ve been one of four people at the Conclave.”

“Do you have names for these people?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Leliana seemed far too interested in the not-Herald character options.

Leliana laughed. “We are a small organization in desperate need of capable and loyal agents to our cause. If you have names for potential recruits, I would have them.”

“Oh.” That made more than enough sense. Valerie kept getting surprised at how few people populated the Inquisition’s current headquarters. She was used to Skyhold’s grandeur and audiences with Empresses and battles between armies. Haven was a reminder of how small it all started. “Yeah, if we’ve got a shot, let’s get them on board.”

“Excellent. Can you write out details for me?”

Oops. “Uh, you know how I write in code?”

Leliana’s eyebrows raised. “Yes…”

“It’s not code. Your world uses a different script than mine. I can’t read or write anything here.”

Leliana’s voice went hard. “You will learn, and you will learn quickly. Understand?”

Valerie gulped slightly. Between the Nightingale on her back, and the need for literacy already pressing in, there was more than enough motivation to learn. “Absolutely.”

Leliana was sitting down again, and her hands steepled and weight resting on her elbows, quiet in thought. Just like the game. Thinking a thousand thoughts.

She wanted to reach out and touch Leliana’s shoulder or something, but it didn’t feel appropriate. Instead, she just said, “Thanks, Leliana. You’re handling my origins well.”

Valerie’s eyes must’ve gotten used to the dark down here, because she could more easily see the expression the flashed across Leliana’s face. Either despair or confusion. It was gone fast, but it was enough.

“I must say, I don’t like to think on it, that we live in a world that was so open to yours. But I still believe that we have our choices here, now.” The tone hardened into something almost angry, if not determined. “We are not in some game of yours. This is real.”

Leliana was right, of course. “I know. I promise I understand. People’s lives are at stake here, and I intend to keep them safe.”

That seemed to assuage her, because she stood up and adjusted her chainmail. “Then we have work to do.”

* * *

Valerie felt oddly relieved after her talk with Leliana the day before. It certainly went over better than expected. Leliana had taken the truth without doubt, took Valerie's secrets for the Inquisition's own.

The real question now, is who else should know? Because Leliana wouldn’t be with her in the Hinterlands to help her act normal. Maybe Varric?

A knock came on the door. “Herald! Message from the Nightingale!”

Valerie walked over, grabbing an extra coat to brace against the chill, and opened the door.

Immediately, there was a knife to her throat. Standing in front of her was one of Leliana’s agents, judging by the low hood and the armor. She was short, maybe only 5 feet tall, and had to be around 40 if the lines around her mouth were any indication. “First lesson, never assume you’re safe with strangers.”

Valerie glared a bit. This person was right, though. She was a religious figure, and destined to have at least a couple assassination attempts.

Well, at least Leliana got her a teacher fast.

“Of course, teacher.”

The knife was sheathed. “Call me Halanis.” Her voice hadn’t softened, but changed into something more polite.

“Halanis. Is that--?”

“Yes, I’m an elf. Call me knife-ear, and you get no training from me or anyone else.” She was looking up now, and glaring.

“ _God_ no.” Fuck, did people think of her like that? Leliana did say that she looked highborn, maybe there were assumptions others made based on the same observations. “I was going to ask if that was related to the elvhen word for help.”

A pause. “It is.”

“Nice. I’m afraid that’s one of the few elvhen words I know. Ir abelas, fa’lon, hahren, da’len, and 'ma serannas are the rest. Any others I should know?”

“None for now. Come.” Apparently, Halanis had gotten over her surprise to lead her away. Valerie scrambled to get her boots on, and had to run to catch up.

They stopped in the woods, close to the lake but far from Cullen and his training. They had passed a cabin, which reminded her, she needed to pick up the notes for Adan to help make potions. Which...might be difficult, given that she couldn't read the notes in question.

Halanis turned to face Valerie, looking up. In this light, it was much easier to see her eyes were a very vivid blue, reminding Valerie of ice. Valerie had fallen into straight posture and hands behind her back. Some of the karate lessons from when she was a kid seemed to be sticking around. “What was your first lesson?”

“Ah, don’t trust strangers.” That was close enough, right?

Given the hesitation, but nod of approval, that was indeed close enough. “Next lesson. Always keep your footing. Even when you’re running around. Some of these things will be much larger than you, tougher than you, and will not hesitate to take advantage of that. If you get knocked down, you die.”

The words fell heavy on her. Death was going to be right around the corner from now on. She gulped, and listened closely.

Halanis spent the next minute teaching her to stand right. It was more touching than she was used to. A hand on the knee to turn it in slightly, pulling on the hips to center her balance better, taps on the shoulder to relax each side.

“Good,” Halanis finally settled, examining her from a short distance. “Now hold it.”

Okay, easy enough. Her knees weren’t locked, so she had to be careful about her balance. It had to be about two-thirds on her balls of her feet, one-third on her heel.

“Hips back.”

Right, they’d been moving forward.

After a couple minor corrections, and a couple more minutes of holding still, Halanis nodded. “At ease.”

Somehow, that had been tiring than expected. Must be mental. It took focus to hold everything right.

“Again.”

She settled into the stance.

“Remember your knees.”

Fuck, right. She turned her heel in a bit to get it right. The stance was held again for a couple minutes.

“At ease.”

She relaxed.

“Again.”

Shit, it was going to be _that_ kind of training session. Well, she told herself that her life would depend on getting trained, and she was going to stick with it. She took her stance again.

Soon, Halanis added in pushes and light punches to throw her off balance. She had to stand against it, or regain footing as fast as possible. Any imperfections were pointed out, and the exercise repeated until she got it right. It went on like that for an hour. The order, the corrections, the pushes, more corrections, then the relaxation.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

Weirdly, her abs ended up feeling sore. Apparently she didn’t work them out hard enough back at home.

“When are you leaving?” Halanis asked after another round of pushing.

“3 days. The medic I saw yesterday said I should rest.”

That made Halanis scoff. “You can rest when you’re dead. Meet me at the gate at 6 bells, before you eat.”

“Yes, sensei.”

The word made an eyebrow raise. “I don’t appreciate words I don’t understand.”

Whoops. Karate habits back again. “Sorry. It means teacher.”

The blue eyes watched her for a minute. “If you must, call me ghi’lan. It’s elvhen.”

“Ghi’lan. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you at 6 bells. Bring any daggers you have.” With that, Halanis trudged away through the snow.

“ _Mierda_ ,” Valerie sighed, sitting on a tree root. It was cold as hell, her ass feeling it through the thick coat and tunic, but it was such a relief to sit after all that. Walking she could handle. Standing? Somehow, that was so much more difficult.

At least Halanis seemed more patient than her seriousness and strictness suggested. And, Valerie couldn't disagree on the necessity of this training.

It took a while for her to get back up, but she made herself stretch and do some yoga before leaving. The relaxing and stretching kind of yoga, because she could not handle trying to do backwards upside-down pretzel-tree, or whatever her mom would do.

She laughed at the memory of her mom. A yoga instructor and a usually-single mother. She kept her brown hair long and in a braided bun. As a kid, she would beg her mom to do her hair the same way.

Maybe she could start doing the same hairstyle now, just to remember. She smiled faintly, remembering her mother’s easy smile and kind words and never-ending support. If she were here, Mom would probably remind her to sleep enough and to eat right.

Oh. Her eyes were getting blurry because of tears. That…

Valerie sniffed, brushed dirt off her hands, and walked towards the cabin. Adan needed those notes.


	4. Groundwork Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! My new year's resolution is to be a bad bitch

The evening training was just as tedious. She trained her stance again for a half hour, then learned how to properly hold her daggers. Properly. Very, very, _very_ properly.

Objectively, it would suck if her dagger flew out of her hand because she wasn’t holding it properly. The exactness of ‘properly’ was enough, however, that Valerie had a harder time learning it. Halanis apparently got fed up with her making the same mistake three times in a row, because she had slapped her knuckles and told her to go eat snow for a few minutes. (Which had apparently been a literal instruction. Was this a wax-on, wax-off situation? She had no idea.)

Can’t say it didn’t work, though, because she could feel how the dagger was supposed to fit in her hand still.

“Val! So good to see you!”

Varric was in the tavern, making the place seem a lot brighter than the dim firelight. It was somewhat quiet tonight, a few tired trainees nursing their ale, and a couple of Leliana’s agents talking in low voices.

“Hey,” Valerie smiled, sitting next to him. “I need food and to pass out.”

“First day of training?”

“Yeah,” she groaned in reply.

Varric seemed to find some humor in that, given the mirthful look in his eyes. “Ah, I remember my first day. It was mostly me getting my ass kicked, fumbling with the crossbow, and getting yelled at. Good times.”

“Hey, you’re alive now.” Valerie caught Flissa’s eye, and motioned for food. She nodded. “And in case no one’s said it yet, Varric: thanks. I know you’re here more out of necessity than want, but it still means a lot.”

“Ah, is that something you _know_?” It was easy to see the resigned humor in his shoulders and voice, but the interest was still very noticeable in his eyes. He was much easier to read than Leliana.

“Yeah.”

“I’d be interested in poking around in that head of yours. You must be sitting on a _hoard_ of interesting dirt on people, if that display at the Temple was any indication.” Valerie snorted. Varric might have already started teasing Cassandra about her choice in literature.

She crossed her arms and set them on the table. “I’m sorry I outed Bianca to the others.” She felt guilty about blowing the cover for Varric’s secret girlfriend. It was something that had been weighing on her since waking up. True, she was half delirious from adrenaline and elfroot potions then, but she was still guilty of doing so.

Varric shrugged and waved a hand forward. “The Nightingale already had dirt on me, what’s one more scandalous secret?” He wasn’t making eye contact, and had Valerie worried about how honest he was being.

“I’m still sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up?”

She watched as a curious expression flashed on Varric’s face. It must be a tempting offer, what she was offering. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, kid. You’re sorry enough.”

The guilt abated at his words. “How about this. I’m going to be running around Orlais and Ferelden. Any red lyrium deposits I find, I destroy.” It was Varric’s personal side quest. And it wasn’t like she didn’t want the lyrium destroyed anyways.

Varric’s eyebrows raise and he hummed shortly in surprise. “I’d actually appreciate that. I’d hoped Kirkwall was an isolated incident, but apparently, red lyrium’s made its way across the continent. I take it you’ve seen what that stuff can do?”

Now was probably a good time to employ the cover story that she and Leliana had crafted yesterday. “Didn’t you know? I’m from the Free Marches, I heard enough about the shit that went down in Kirkwall.”

He perked up slightly at her explanation. “Free Marcher, eh? What a shame, Josephine was telling me about how excited she was to meet another Antivan.”

“I grew up near the border. I left home a few months before Kirkwall blew.”

“Fascinating. What was that like? Growing up between two nations?”

Even though she didn’t have the actual experience of the border between Antiva and the Free Marches, she definitely had experience growing up in Miami. “Mostly, you end up mixing up the languages as a kid, and getting irritated at both nations for all the shit you hear they do.”

Varric laughed at that. “You got that right. I knew a guy who grew up between Ferelden and Orlais, couldn’t stop complaining about the both of them.”

“Up in the Frostbacks?” Wasn’t that supposed to be the border between the two countries?

“Yeah, a small town on a trade route across the mountains. You can imagine how a guy like that can just complain and complain.” Varric was crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah. I don’t know how much longer I can stand the cold here, I don’t blame him.”

“It’s a good thing we’re leaving soon, then.” He shot a grin at her.

Right, now was probably a good time to start asking about the favor she needed. “Hey, Varric, you’re an author right?”

He shot another grin and shrugged. “I do write stories, and sell them for profit.” The door opened, and apparently the soldier that walked in made the trainees much happier, because she got them cheering within a minute.

“Want to teach a bitch to read?”

“I—what?” His expression fell into incredulous confusion.

God, this was more embarrassing than it should be. She knew how to read, she just didn’t know what the hell the alphabet here was. It still felt shameful, especially given how academic her life had been before.

If she put it off, though, Leliana would kick her ass. “I, uh, may or may not need help in learning how to read.”

“I thought you were highborn! And I know I’ve seen you writing in a journal.”

Fuck. Lie. “Uh, as a kid, I didn’t like learning from adults. I made up my own written language.”

There was a second of disbelief from Varric, before his expression broke into absolute laughter. He laughed for a solid minute, coming close to hyperventilating before calming down. It was a good laugh, even if at her expense, and it had her laughing with him. “Oh, Maker, that’s the weirdest mix of rebellion and genius I’ve heard.”

At least he bought it. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Here I was, about to start calling you Shiny, but I’m going to need something new, now that I know that.”

“Shiny?” she asked, scrunching her nose. Was _that_ going to be a nickname? She was getting a nickname?

“Yeah. You know, you’ve got a hand that glows, you fight like you’re brand new and shiny, and you’re not being all broody about it.”

“Can’t say I like it,” she responded.

“Don’t worry, I said already I’m going to come up with something else. In the meantime, I’d be happy to teach you how to read.” He shuffled the paper on his table around.

Flissa brought food over as Varric went over the alphabet. He let her write out notes next to each of the common language alphabet while he reviewed them. There were more letters than in English, and it meant that she had to bring in some of her knowledge from other languages, like the Greek theta and Korean ‘eu’.

He slid the paper closer to her. “Learn those, then. Should be easy for someone as smart as you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” She folded the paper in half, and tucked it into her coat. At least she could have a starting point.

In the corner, the singer must’ve finished her drink because she was back again at her lute. Valerie looked at it, but it didn’t seem familiar. “Hey, Varric, what’s that instrument called?”

“That? It’s a lilith.”

She watched as the minstrel alternated between strumming all the strings and plucking some others. There were at least 8 strings, which was 4 more than Valerie had ever been able to work with. “Do you know why it’s called that?”

“Eh, I think it’s named after the woman who invented it. Don’t know anything else though.” Varric leaned forward. “Tell me, are you eyeing the instrument right now, or the player?”

 _Joder_ , she was staring, wasn’t she? There was probably a blush on her face, but she turned back to Varric anyways. “There’s a joke in there about fingers, but to be honest, I really was curious about the instrument.”

Varric laughed again, one of his long laughs that made Valerie smile along with him.

They chatted for a while longer, until the exhaustion crept up on her. The walk back to bed was short. Haven was small, but it wasn’t tiny by any means.

As she woke up the next morning, she remembered the sounds of guitars and her mother’s voice.

* * *

Training was relentless. Repeated rehearsal of her stance, her grip, and added repetition for upwards and downwards slashes. Her shoulders had never been so sore. It felt like they would always be sore, and this was just her life now.

Leliana was busy went she finally got to the spymaster’s tent. Valerie took the opportunity to sit down, and fucking _breathe_ , head on her hands and elbows on her knees. Even if she had managed to bathe after that training session, she still felt worn.

“What can I do for you, Herald?”

With a sigh, Valerie sat up. “I want to tell Varric about my origins.”

“Absolutely not.”

Okay, it was going to be like this. At least she had an argument prepared. “Look, I’m going out into the field, and I’m going to be on my own. I’m going to mess up and out myself as more than just a foreigner. People might get suspicious.”

Leliana had her arms crossed and eyes sharp. “Tell Cassandra, if it’s that much of a concern.”

She shook her head. “Cassandra won’t be able to help cover slip-ups. You know her. She’d rather glare people down than work with a lie.” Valerie sighed. She didn’t want to stand up, but sitting while Leliana was standing reminded her of being in the principal’s office. “Varric is a liar, and that’s exactly what I need. He’s quick to talk, and knows people well enough to address concerns before they become a problem. And I trust him.”

Leliana let out an irritated huff. “You’re right. Cassandra wouldn’t be able to support you, and Solas is too much an unknown.” Then she got an interested look in her eye, and turned to face her head-on. “What can you tell me about Solas?”

Oh, a _lot_. But it probably wouldn’t be wise to say it all. “He’s a strong mage, he believes elves have fallen from glory, and he’s kind of an asshole. On the other hand, he’s very knowledgeable, and he believes in the Inquisition’s ability to help the world.”

Leliana had smiled at the ‘asshole’ comment, maybe she’d seen hints of that in his personality already.

“What do you think of me telling Cullen and Josephine?” Valerie asked, knowing that Varric was clear.

That seemed to make Leliana think for a moment. “Yes to Josephine, I think she needs to know the truth so she can field questions from overly-interested authorities and nobility.” Valerie had to agree with that logic.

“And Cullen?”

Leliana sighed. “He doesn’t have any need to know, and I don’t think he’d handle it well enough to justify telling him anyways.”

Again, sound logic. “Okay, I’ll tell Varric and Josephine tonight. Get it over with.”

The Nightingale gave a smile. She leaned her hip against the table, and surprisingly, kept her smile as she changed the topic. “I heard your training is going well. Halanis said you’ve hardly complained, and you learn quickly.”

Valerie shrugged, which was painful because of soreness, and had to bite back a groan. “I’ve got to, haven’t I? I’m leaving in two days.”

“The Hinterlands will give you plenty of practice.”

“But there are so many goddamn wolves and bears!” She wanted to throw up her hands, but that would require using her very sore shoulders. “And I’m going to have to figure out how to ride a horse.”

“Again, plenty of practice.”

It was obviously an exercise in futility, trying to beg sympathy from Leliana. Valerie huffed at Leliana’s smile. They both had work to do, so Valerie pulled out her notebook to find her to-do list. Right, Haven evacuation plans was next on the agenda. “So, Leliana, a question.”

“Ask away.”

“What’s the evacuation plan for Haven, should disaster strike?”

There was a moment of stillness and surprise, then the implications hit Leliana, causing her expressions to shift into panic. She standing at ready, as if the fight had already arrived. “Everyone gets out through the gate, and goes to the other side of the lake. We try to keep reserve supplies there.” She immediately turned to her table, shuffling through papers. “When was the last time those supplies were inspected? What if the food has gone bad? Or if animals got to it?”

“Leliana!” Valerie yelled, as gently as she could. That, thankfully, made the woman stop, and turn her attention back towards her. “I’m glad you have a plan, but unfortunately, it’s not going to help for what’ll happen.”

“Then what do we do?” Panic, fear, and frustration.

“There’s a passage out through the mountains. The path of the Summer Pilgrimage, or something. Right now, only Ser Roderick knows about it. I’d like to keep this between us for as long as possible. And there’s nothing that can be done to stop the disaster in question, so don’t go investigating. Trust me.”

Leliana seemed suspicious at that request. “Why keep the evacuation route secret?”

She said too much again, didn’t she?

Fuck, nothing was coming to mind, she wasn’t ready for the question. She was too tired to think of a complete lie. Time for half-truths. “I don’t want anyone knowing where we are while we’re so vulnerable. If we keep a lid on that info, then we prevent attracting any _cabrónes_ seeking an opportunity to screw us over.”

That seemed to work. Not completely, but mostly. Leliana uncrossed her arms. “So then, where is this path?”

“I don’t know, I just know that the entrance is somewhere in the Chantry.”

She looked like she wanted to ask another question, but she stopped herself. “That…actually explains the door in the downstairs storage room, and the draft that always seemed to come in there. I suppose it’s time I take a hand at picking the lock.”

“Good. We’ll need to set up emergency supplies and rations. Copies of important documents. Maybe we could put it in the storage room itself, or right on the other side of that door.”

“Yes, I’ll have to see what supplies we can spare. Discreetly.”

“Right, that’s all I had for today. Thanks for the talk.”

As Valerie was standing up, Leliana quickly said “One more thing,” and pulled out a piece of paper. Valerie wanted to groan. She wanted to nap. She wanted to sit down.

With a sigh, she did none of those things. “What’s up?”

“It’s about your personal assistant. I’m down to two candidates, both young. Neither are particularly skilled fighters, and both are dedicated to the Inquisition. There’s Terys, a Dalish that grew up in the Dales, and has shown great promise with his observation skills, and Ola, a woman from Crestwood, and has a talent for stealth and discretion.”

“I’d be happy to talk with both. Can they be spared to visit Haven by the time I get back from the Hinterlands?”

“Yes, Herald.”

“Then let’s interview them both.” She turned to step away.

But Leliana apparently had something else. “And one last thing.”

She groaned. “You enjoy this. My suffering.”

That made Leliana flash a grin. “Only slightly. I have two more names for you. Granaria, and Bryce Facile.”

“And they are?”

“Granaria is a sufficiently isolated town near the border of the Free Marches and Antiva, mainly running by wheat and barley farms. Bryce Facile was a Free Marcher merchant who traded between Wycome and Antiva, drank, gambled and whored his life away until he was assassinated two years ago. He would disappear for period of time, supposedly doing one of the three aforementioned hobbies. Enough time to supposedly care for a mistress and daughter.” Leliana looked pointedly at Valerie.

“Granaria and Bryce Facile, you said?”

“Yes.”

“Those are good names. Thank you.”

Leliana smiled again, this time one of her sharp and calculated ones. Maybe a hint of pride. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Am I free to go now? Or do you have one more thing?”

“No, that’s all.”

“ _Jesus Cristo_ , I thought it would never end.” She would’ve run away to her bed, if she wasn’t so damn sore.

* * *

Josephine was writing at her desk, despite the later hour. “What can I do for you, Herald?” she asked, as pleasant as always.

Meave was gone from her research desk. It had always felt weird to see those two in the same room, but there was only so much space. “Varric is on the way. You and he are going to learn a few things. Is this office soundproof?”

“As much as it can be without magic.”

“Good.” It was relatively warm in her office, so she took off her coat.

“May I ask exactly what knowledge we are to learn from you?” Josephine sounded a mix of curious and apprehensive.

“We should wait until Varric is here.”

Josephine nodded, and put her quill down and lid on her inkwell. The writing on her paper was in that Nordic script, neat and polished. Thanks to her studying last night and this morning, she recognized a few of the characters.

It took another minute until Varric got there. “You wanted to see me, Valerie the Unschooled?”

Valerie laughed. “Badass, but too long.”

“Yeah, well, it’s one of the titles I’m giving you in the book I’m writing about all this shit. I’ll work on something easier for day-to-day use.”

“You do that.” Valerie gave him another smile, and sat down in a chair. Training had been long and intense and her muscles were complaining. Again. “So, Josephine, Varric, this needs to stay secret. Neither of you have permission to share this, except with Leliana, since she knows this already. I’m telling you both at the same time because I don’t want to answer the same questions twice.”

“Tell us what?” Varric asked, a mix of dreading and curious for the answer. Josephine seemed to be fidgeting with a strip of fabric on her dress.

“That I’m not from Thedas.”

They both sighed, the tension releasing. “Well, if that’s all,” Josephine began. “We can certainly make arrangements to contact your homeland, if you’d like. I was under the impression that the Western Isles and the peoples in South Nior did not speak Common, but you’ve—”

“I’m not from there either.”

That gave Josephine pause.

“What exactly are you saying, Val?” Varric asked uneasily.

Valerie gave the same explanation that she’d given Leliana last night, and _that_ seemed to communicate her origins better.

“So,” Josephine said slowly. “You’re from another world entirely. One that is connected to ours through this game.”

“Yeah.”

Josephine tilted her head. “Is that how you know so much about us and the future? You said you were quite invested in the game involving…us.”

Valerie gestured towards Josephine. “Exactly! It’s not really a lie to say I know the future, but it’s a lie to say I’m a seer. A convenient lie.”

“What I’m wondering, is how the hell you ended up here, if we’re a fictional world to you. You didn’t meddle with dimensional magic or whatever, did you?

Valerie laughed. Varric’s question was one she had too. “I’ve no fucking clue. I don’t remember anything from before waking up in your dungeon.”

Varric’s eyebrows furrowed. “But the Seeker said you told them what happened at the Conclave.”

“Technically, I’m going to find out later. And since ‘later’ falls within what was shown in the game, I know things already.” She shrugged. Hopefully that made sense. “Trust me, we’re already way ahead of schedule as far as getting answers.”

“Does that mean you know who it was controlling the Wardens?” Josephine asked.

Goddamn. She never sees these kinds of questions coming, the questions she could but _shouldn’t_ answer. Her face screwed up as she considered what could be shared now. Nothing could really be done against Corypheus right now, so there wouldn’t be much of a point besides wasting time and drifting their focus from the Breach.

The room had been silent for too long, she realized. She spoke up. “I do, but it’ll have to be something I share later. I need to get my plan sorted out first.” She hadn’t been working on it as much as she should. Then again, she had been training her ass off and trying to get settled in on another fucking planet, so she had some wiggle room.

“You and your master plan. Cassandra mentioned it, said it was supposed to be a better way to bring order to Thedas than we’d be able to do otherwise.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Varric almost sounded mocking.

“Hey, I can’t make any promises. My main goal is to save lives, and I got something started with Leliana already that’ll help prepare us when shit hits the fan.”

Josephine coughed, but it sounded more like she was covering up a laugh. “I can’t say that’s a common phrase in Thedas.”

Oh, right, the reason why she wanted to tell them in the first place. “Yeah, Varric, that might happen a lot. I’ll need your help whenever I act like an off-worlder.”

“Gotcha. In exchange, I want to ask some questions about your world.” Varric had his arms crossed and a serious expression, which put Valerie on edge.

“Such as?”

His tone switched to something much lighter, and his face lit up. “Your stories, of course! I can’t pass an opportunity to hear legends no one else in Thedas could imagine.” Valerie couldn’t help but laugh. She should’ve expected that.

“Oh, happy to do that then.” Valerie could think of so many stories to tell already. Star Wars. Greek mythology. Lord of the Rings. Macbeth. Dick in a box. “I gotta say, you guys and Leliana are all taking this much better than I expected.”

“Val, the world is ending and magic does crazy shit all the time. It’s not so hard to believe.”

Varric had a point. “I guess. If someone from your world popped into mine, they’d be called a _pendejo_ _loco_ and either end up in the streets or in a care facility.” Josephine let out a sound at the use of Valerie’s Spanish.

“Well, Herald, no one will be doing that to you here,” Josephine reassured.

“Hey, if you go crazy because of that mark on your hand, or just from being the Herald, I’ll be a true friend and throw you into the madhouse.”

“Talk shit, get hit, Varric.”

Varric laughed, and Josephine giggled.


	5. Hinterlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long-ass chapter with introspection and story-telling and some depression. I also added the initial pairings, but things will shuffle.

Valerie was up late the night before they were to leave for the Hinterlands, and still awoken early the next morning, full of nervous energy. Thankfully, Cassandra helped her tie down her travel pack properly, because holy shit, she was ignorant about how these things worked.

“Leliana said this is your first time riding,” Cassandra said to her. It was more a statement than a question.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” She felt embarrassed, similarly to how she felt about being illiterate here. In her world, she could drive with no problem, or call an uber, or hell, use her skateboard like in college. But here? She was back to basics.

Cassandra examined the saddle for a moment, then nodded. “You should be alright with this horse and saddle, they are meant for beginners. We will go at a slower pace and take breaks. Tell us if you get too saddle-sore to continue. Here is some diluted elfroot potion to help with the pain.” She handed Valerie a large bottle of dark glass, filled with a transparent liquid. It looked suspiciously like a repurposed wine bottle.

Valerie had no idea how the horse and saddle made it fit for a beginner, but it didn’t matter. She took the bottle and placed it in a saddlebag. “Okay. Thank you.” Cassandra nodded in response, then left.

And then, Valerie tried to mount the horse.

‘Tried’ being the key word.

Valerie would never admit that she fell on her ass trying to get on the horse her first try. Nobody saw, everyone either half asleep or busy. So, no, she didn’t fall into the hard-packed snow, thank you for asking.

Riding…took some getting used to.

They took breaks each hour, and Valerie would alternate between drinking from her waterskin and the diluted potion. Varric told stories to pass the time. Given that he was an author, she shouldn’t have been surprised at how good his stories were.

In his stories, Varric was also nice enough to (subtly) explain some cultural aspects of Thedas. Some were stories were ones she was already familiar with, such as the supposed origin of the dwarves. But then there were stories about the stars. The myth behind Silentir, and the god of silence, a god who once loved a mortal woman, and when she had died, he never spoke a word again for grief. The Avvar-Mother, Tyrdda Brightaxe, and her lover, the leaf-eared Lady of the Skies, who had left, and only in her final days did Tyrdda return to her side among the clouds and stars.

Cassandra had been especially enraptured by that one.

“Alright, I’m going to give Raven a turn.”

“Raven?”

Varric shot a grin at her. “Your new nickname. What do you think?”

Raven from Teen Titans was her favorite cartoon character as a kid, so she wasn’t mad at it. “Why Raven?” she asked, curious.

Varric put his reins in one hand, and held up the other. A finger went up for each point. “You’re weirdly all-knowing. You’re something of a bad omen. You’re smart. You’ve got the hair for it. And you make a sound sometimes.”

“What sound?! I don’t make any sounds!”

The dwarf was snickering now. “You didn’t see yourself in battle at the Temple. You get surprised, and squawk.”

“I do not!” Valerie squawked.

Oh. Varric may have a point.

Cassandra, Varric and even Solas were laughing. Valerie couldn’t help but laugh along.

“So, got any fun stories?” Varric asked, laughter tapering off. “Leliana told me you had quite the imagination, you’ve got hundreds up in that head of yours.”

Valerie could see what he was doing, posing her less like an alien and more like a poet, for all the stories she knew. “Sure. What kind of story?”

“How about something long, and involving elves? For our good friend Baldy over here.” Solas shot Varric a glare, but did not protest.

“I might have one like that.” Valerie took a sip of water, and began. “There was once a happy town of hobbits called the Shire. Hobbits are small, human-like people who preferred to spend their days gardening, farming, throwing parties and eating 3 breakfasts and 4 dinners a day.”

Valerie did her best to recreate the story of the Hobbit. She stumbled a bit, forgetting if the dwarves were captured by trolls or ogres, so she just said ogres. The blade Sting probably had more properties than just glowing around danger, but she couldn’t remember. Cassandra liked the idea, and seemed to be thinking about the uses of such a weapon. Solas seemed especially interested to hear about the noble elves of Rivendell.

Goblins didn’t exist here, so she tried her best to explain that part of the story. “Beasts who lived in caves, and treasured bloodshed and chaos above all. They stand on two feet, and speak Common, but their claws are long and their skin is like leather.”

“You have quite the imagination, Valerie,” Solas commented, looking at her strangely.

Was that a compliment, or condescending? Hard to tell with a charlatan like Solas, honestly. She ignored it and continued.

Was the encounter with Gollum before or after the encounter with the goblins? She couldn’t remember. Fight scenes were much less epic in description than visually. Everyone else was polite enough to not say anything, though she might have lost their interest.

The escape seemed to go over better. Or rather, Bilbo’s fall, encounter with Gollum, and subsequent escape.

Most of all, they enjoyed the riddles. “What has roots that nobody sees, that is taller than trees, up and up it goes, but never does it grow?”

“Ooh, ooh, let me guess,” Varric cut in. “I want to say a lake?”

Cassandra was shaking her head. “Lakes at the bottom of mountains grow from snowmelt, and they are not deeper than trees are tall. Hm…”

“What about the sky?” Varric asked again.

“Perhaps, but the sky hardly has roots,” Solas replied.

“The Fade?” Cassandra asked.

Solas let out a scoff. “The Fade is in a constant state of flux. It not only grows, but it shrinks, explodes and births new worlds entirely.” Valerie recognized that offended voice. He looked every bit the part of an academic.

“Oh, I got it! A mountain!” Varric exclaimed.

Valerie laughed, her attention snapped away from Solas. “Of course the dwarf gets it.” Cassandra let out an ‘aaah’ noise in understanding.

“What can I say, we love the Stone.”

“Well, Bilbo gets the answer in one, and has a riddle prepared for Gollum in turn.” Valerie didn’t remember half the riddles from the story, but she did remember her favorites. “He asks ‘a box without hinges, key or lid, but inside, golden treasure is hid.’”

Each of the others were silent for a bit. Solas made the first guess. “A womb?”

“Uh, no.” That…could conceivably work for the riddle, but it still wasn’t the answer.

“What about embers? Like in a campfire?” Cassandra asked.

“No, Seeker, that’s nothing like a box. I’d say a book.”

“Books have bindings. May as well be a hinge,” Cassandra replied. “Could it be a hearth, Valerie?”

“No, but you all have very good guesses.”

“Any hints for us, Raven?”

“Just that ‘golden’ is much more literal than you are all thinking.”

“Oh. An egg,” Cassandra immediately answered.

“Yup!” she replied with a smile.

“Aw, dammit,” Varric muttered. “What’s the deal Seeker? You kept talking about fire.”

“I had initially thought of an egg, but I thought riddles had to be more abstract than that, so I dismissed it.”

Solas laughed lightly. “Riddles can be either. Is there another one, Valerie?”

“Well yeah. Gollum also got the answer in one, and has his next riddle prepared.”

“Raven, why the hell is this creepy thing living in a deep dark cave so smart?”

Valerie smiled. “Oh, well, you remember how I said he had some strings of hair?”

“Yeah…”

“And how he was small.”

“Yeah…” Varric’s voice got more uneasy.

“Well, it’s probably been a couple hundred years since he looked like one, but he was once a hobbit. Corrupted magic got to him.”

Cassandra made a disgusted sound. Varric let out a low whistle. “Damn, Raven, you’ve got a twisted mind.”

It felt wrong to be taking credit for someone else’s work like this. She wasn’t Tolkien, she didn’t have imagination that extensive or legendary. Then again, story-telling was once an art of many professions before widespread literacy.

“I take inspiration from the world around me,” she settled on saying. Varric let out a harsh laugh. “Anyways, the next riddle from Gollum. He asked ‘alive without breath, as cold as death, always drinking but never thirsty…’ Wait, I forget the last line. Something about armor, I think.”

“A fish,” Solas immediately answered.

“Wow. Yeah, actually, that’s right.”

Solas nodded, but the slight smile made him look very pleased with himself. Like a cat that got away with stealing your food.

“Agh!” Varric cried. “I’m supposed to be good at riddles, but Solas just beat my time. And with a half-forgotten riddle too!”

“Don’t worry, Varric, I’m sure you’ll get the next one,” Solas responded evenly. With that dumb fucking smile on his face. Valerie might have a problem with it.

No other riddles were coming to mind, at least, not in a complete enough form. She remembered how it ended, at least.

“Just as the last time, Bilbo gets the answer right away. But he didn’t want to stay in this creepy cave, and it’s obvious Gollum was just as good at riddles as he. So his next riddle had to be sure to get him a way out. He asked ‘what is in my pocket?’”

“What the hell kind of riddle is that?!” Varric cried.

“I must say, it’s not a very interesting riddle, if it even qualifies as one,” Solas said, tone slightly offended.

Even Cassandra seemed to not like it. “It’s not a fair riddle, the creature has no way of knowing.”

“Look, I—” Valerie stopped herself. She wanted to say ‘I didn’t write this,’ but she had to pretend she did. “I didn’t say Bilbo was there to play fair, or have a good time. Gollum couldn’t answer, and begrudgingly admitted defeat.”

“Kind of a dick move,” Varric said.

“Well, Gollum, upon losing, starts to panic. It looks around and around, trying to find his precious. His birthday present. He’s shouting, splashing in the water, looking and panicking. He needs it, he needs his precious.”

“Is that the magic that corrupted the creature?” Solas asked. “I rather think that any magic that causes intense obsession could easily be evil. Perhaps even blood magic.”

Huh. When he put it like that, it sounded very Thedas-plausible. “Maybe,” she said slowly. She smiled, then continued. “Bilbo was starting to feel very nervous about the ring in his pocket, so he grips in in his hand. Gollum broke down crying, crying about his missing birthday present. Then, Gollum suddenly stops.”

“Oh shit,” Varric muttered.

“Then he asks, ‘what has it gots in its pocketsies?’” Valerie attempted to do the Gollum voice, the high-pitched rasping-slash-hissing, but it made Varric laugh. Cassandra was smiling. Solas was…if she wasn’t mistaken, Solas was alarmed. Weird.

“Raven, don’t do any more voices.”

“Indeed,” Cassandra added, laughing a bit. “It is quite silly for a voice.”

Solas sounded much less amused. “It’s an accurate impression of a desire demon’s true form. Few people have seen or heard such a thing. It is smart to compare this creature to them.”

That was…interesting. Desire demons didn’t pop out to this side of the veil, so she didn’t know what they were supposed to look like. But to compare those seducers to Gollum... “Thanks, I guess.” Should she deny knowing what desire demons looked like? Would Solas believe it was a coincidence?

“I have never been so glad to be a dwarf. Come on, Raven, what happens next?”

Fuck, was she glad for the out. “Gollum attacks, now screaming about needing his precious, his birthday present, how Bilbo is a thief. Bilbo ducks behind a rock, and in doing so, the ring slips on his finger. And just like that, he is invisible.”

Valerie gets through the rest of the story, not spending too much time on the Battle of 5 armies, even though Cassandra was very interested in it. Varric overall seemed to like how dwarf were generally honor-bound idiots. Something about how it was more accurate than humans’ general impression of dwarves.

Solas didn’t say much about the elves in her story, except to listen more intently when they were involved. For all she knew, her descriptions of the Rivendell elves matched the ancient elves, and she was drudging up a lot of feelings of grief in Solas.

They made camp, and miraculously, Valerie felt okay about the day.

* * *

To say that Valerie was not prepared for combat would be an understatement. Mages tossing spells of fire, ice and electricity, and sigils on the ground that would burn, freeze or shock her. Templars with their armor and their shields, making it impossible to land an actual hit on them. The only place she could regularly hit them was on the back of their legs, and that involved way too much ducking and jumping for her to stay on balance. Thankfully, Solas and his ice spells made it actually possible to stab into the chinks in their armor, and they went down pretty quickly after that.

When it was finally over, Valerie ducked into a bush and vomited.

She’d never killed anyone before. Demons on the way to the Breach didn’t count.

But the blood dripping from underneath the plate armor of the bodies on the ground was somehow too slow and too fast to come. The sounds of wet choking as the lungs were punctured. The last, erratic and gasping breaths of a dying mage, facing the sky and surrounded by blood and mud.

It was simply disgusting. Not to mention how several of the older bodies would actually shit or piss themselves as the bowel and abdominal muscles relaxed, post-rigor mortis. Nobody talked about that. Nobody talked about how the pupils of a dead woman stay dilated, despite staring up at the sun. Or the jaws hanging open. Or the death rattles sounding like fucking pop rocks in the dying body’s throat.

Valerie vomited again. She should stop thinking about this. She had passed out during combat from a chest wound, but Cassandra had revived her, holding her shield to block her other side. A potion had been shoved down her throat. Then she was back in the fray.

So the vomit on the ground looked like the red of an elfroot potion, and the remains of her lunch of bread and salted meat. The smell wafted up, and made her want to vomit again. Instead she turned away. Vomiting was apparently becoming a pattern after battle.

Solas, Varric and Cassandra were looting the bodies. There were Inquisition soldiers helping refugees. Cassandra had shot a look over to Valerie, but she waved the Seeker off. She could use a break, and be alone right now, so she found another tree to hide behind, and sat the fuck down.

She just let her mind go blank. Images, sounds, smells occasionally tried to breach her focus, but she was too tired to think on them long.

Eventually, after her muscles regained their strength, she stood back up. Mother Giselle. Right. The reason she was here. It was easy to see the woman with her Chantry headdress. A man was dying, and she was offering comforting words.

“Mother Giselle?” Valerie asked, keeping her distance.

The mother got up from her knees, and brushed the dirt off her robes. “Ah, the Herald of Andraste.”

“The Chantry said no to that.”

She gave a serene smile. “The Chantry _did_ say that, Herald. I’ve heard rumors I wish to discuss with you. Walk with me?”

Valerie held her hand out towards the town’s paths. “Lead the way.”

She followed the woman for a minute or so before Mother Giselle spoke again. “I am to understand that you saw the future of Thedas?”

Fuck, rumors travel fast. Was this one of the those rumors that the inner circle would be happy to spread? Her knowledge of the future was supposed to stay at least somewhat secret. “Well, yeah, but try not to tell everyone.”

“Then you know as well as I that the Chantry has no power over Thedas as it is now, except for its unified voice.”

Centralized churches controlling entire nations was dangerous, especially the more fanatic they got. Her history classes at least taught her that. “So I go to Val Royeaux and I break that unity, yes?”

“Indeed, Herald.” Again, that too-sly smile for an innocent Chantry Mother. Valerie had never thought too hard about Mother Giselle and her eagerness to join the Inquisition, but maybe she should’ve. “It is good to hear that you understand the wisdom behind the steps, not just the path itself. A map is useless unless one understands where they are.”

“Well, I’m hoping to take some shortcuts, actually.”

The vague smile turned into a vague frown. “I will not question your foresight, Herald, but I’d advise against leaving a path towards victory.”

“I’m not doing it for shits and giggles. I’m trying to save lives.” Valerie was too tired to be truly angry, but she wouldn’t budge on this point.

Mother Giselle must’ve recognized the signals she was sending, because her face and tone immediately turned neutral. “Ah, then Andraste must’ve given you your foresight for that very purpose. We are lucky that she chose you.”

Valerie could feel her shoulders relax from their anxious tenseness. God, she was tired. She wanted some breadsticks right now, or some donuts. Something comforting to eat, instead of the plain stuff she kept getting here.

“So, Herald, your foresight truly tells you how to succeed, yes?”

She nodded slowly, still walking beside the woman. A couple were off to the side, embracing and kissing each other as if grateful to be alive. Valerie distantly wished she had people she cared for here, or people who cared for her. Like her mom, or her college friends, or nice elderly neighbor. Just one person who would recognize her and like her.

The aching in her chest was suddenly overwhelming, and she shoved those thoughts into the background. Mother Giselle. Inquisition. Herald. Right.

“Does your foresight tell you how you might also fail?”

The question left her surprised at first, but she soon recovered with a slow breath. “Fair question. Not exactly, but there are a lot of things the Inquisition will be taking on, and I have seen the consequences of failing to handle those fronts.”

“That doesn’t necessarily answer my question, Herald.” Ugh, her use of the ‘Herald’ title was getting annoying. “I mean do you know what happens if the Breach is not closed?”

“Oh, that. Yes. And…it’s not pretty.” On top of the sounds of the death rattles, Valerie was now thinking about the giant hole stretching across the sky and nearly blotting out the sun itself, 1 year in the future. Her eyes drifted towards the Breach, shining green against the clear sky.

“So you understand the stakes.”

She looked back to Mother Giselle. “Yes.” For as tired as she was, she tried to put conviction in her tone.

Mother Giselle faced ahead of them, but came to a stop. They had circled back around to the town center again. “I will go to Haven, and offer my assistance to Leliana and the Inquisition. I thank you, Herald, for your time, and may the Maker watch over you.”

“And also with you.” Fuck, wait, that was a Catholic thing. She was too tired. Whatever. Giselle bowed, and left to attend to more of the wounded.

Varric was back by her side quickly. “So, how is the _one_ Chantry authority willing to talk to us?”

“Oh…she, uh, wants to help. She’ll go to Leliana and help or something.”

“Right. It suddenly occurs to me that you got slashed in the chest, and you should probably get medical attention for that.” Varric kept his tone light, but was clearly eyeing her torso with alarm.

Valerie looked down, and she could see that her coat had blood staining the entire front, seeping from her chest where the fabric was torn open. The flesh wasn’t particularly gory, but it was notable. At least it matched the dark of her clothes and coat. Why didn’t Mother Giselle say anything?

“Come on, Raven, we’re getting you to a healer. We could find somebody at camp, instead of Solas, if you want, I can tell you’re not a fan of him.”

Valerie laughed dryly, and that made her chest wound sting. Apparently, healing potions can only do so much for so long. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” She was too worn out to ask how he could tell she didn’t like Solas.

* * *

The day was bright and clear. The river was calm and glittering in the afternoon sun. In the distance, she could hear deer calling out and birds chirping.

In front of her, a Templar charged and slammed into her with a large shield, knocking her to the ground. A sword came down, but she’d rolled out of the way in time. She was on her feet and trying to get at the back of the legs, the only damn part she could reliably stab in the Templar armor.

As the Templar fell, she absently noted how dirty and dented that armor was, and how the Templar seemed too thin for what they were wearing. Even the helmet showed deep shadows under the cheekbones.

Valerie’s attention got drawn to an archer when an arrow grazed her leg. She ran towards them and stabbed directly into their neck. The blood sprayed directly onto her face. The Templar fell.

Cassandra pulled her sword out of the chest of the largest Templar. Valerie’s eyes scanned the hideout, ears sharp for signs of aggression, but seemed that there were no others left.

“Fuck,” Valerie sighed, staring at the ground in front of her

In the distance, she could hear Cassandra searching through notes and loot hidden away at this hideout. Maybe she should be paying attention to this. But instead, all she could focus on was the taste of blood in her mouth, belonging to one of the people she’d killed.

It was sharp, but seemed to burn on her skin. Was she imagining that? Or was it a side effect of having lyrium in blood coming in contact with your skin? Every droplet on her skin felt like shards of hot ice, stabbing and singeing into her face. Maybe she’d end up with scars.

“I’ll be right back,” she said faintly, to no one in particular, and made her way towards the river on the other side of the hideout’s walls.

She collapsed to her knees on the riverbed. Her hands shook as she cupped water in them. It was cold and clean, and she stared. Her fingers were turning pale as they cooled off in the water. And, though rippled and shifting, she could see her reflection. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Face slack, blinking against the shimmering water.

A voice startled her. “Are you in need of medical attention?”

It was Solas. She could see his reflection in the water, holding his staff in one hand and facing the back of her head. The reflection didn’t show his expression clearly.

“N-no,” she managed to say. With an inhale, she leaned over the water and began to wash her face, finally. The burning from the blood spray cooled and fizzled out, and the cold helped to ground her.

Solas took a moment to speak again. “Are…you okay?” His question was soft, but no less audible over the river’s rush.

She clenched her teeth. Somehow, the question felt mocking. “I’ll be fine,” she answered, clipped, and washed her face again.

He wasn’t there when she stood up again.

* * *

The stars shined so brightly here.

Valerie spent her first time on watch simply staring at the night sky. It seemed like millions and millions of the pinpricks of light littered the sky, making the darkness look blue instead of black. Instead of the Milky Way, there were two curved stripes of a galaxy, twirling to meet in the middle. The twinkling of each star seemed to shine down on her so bright as to make her feel overstimulated and raw.

Only one of the moons became visible towards the end of her shift, cresting the horizon at an angle. It sent her tired mind on a flurry of questions about how the moons were tilted in proportion to the planet’s rotational axis. And it was only mostly full, but did it ever get fully bright? Fully dark? Which moon was this? Did the moons have names? How often did they cycle through phases? How did the moon phases affect the Thedas calendar?

The questions thankfully distracted her from feeling so very lost, in this world that was too far away, and perhaps even galaxies away from her home.

It was easier to think about her existence in Thedas as a vertical movement. In a metaphysical sense, that didn’t make sense. Because Thedas only existed in video games in her world, but that tenuous connection was apparently enough to get transported down into a computer-generated world. She landed in Thedas because she played the games, and weird magic happened, and it just so happened that she became the Herald. She had no memories about how or why she got here. And the fact was, she was here, and she had this responsibility to the Inquisition and its people, thanks to this mark in her hands that glowed like a fallen star.

But when looking up at the sky, it really hit home just how far away from home she was.

The stars were beautiful. Mesmerizing. The kind of sight she could barely glimpse in her life as a city girl. Stars that told stories and spawned religions and gods and guided sailors and travelers and reminded people that they were tiny.

But they weren’t her stars. She couldn’t find Sagittarius, her own star sign. No Big Dipper. No Orion’s Belt. No North Star.

Just a scatter of beautiful, meaningless stars.

She had to look away from it. She pulled out her notebook and started writing notes on what she was supposed to be doing.

* * *

They did it. They finally fucking did it. The mages were dead. They survived this fight. She hated seeing their bodies, but more, she hated seeing how much destruction they were capable of.

The pillars of ice had never stuck her as being substantial, not through a screen, but these were tall, almost as tall as the Chantry back in Haven, and imposing and unnatural. They made the air freezing cold around the cave of the mage hideout. It chilled her to stand next to them, and not just because of the temperature.

Should she really side with the mages, as the Inquisitor? It’s no wonder people were so scared of them. She would have nightmares about the feeling of magic freezing her in place, the cold pressing in on her lungs. Fire glancing off her coat. Getting shot with lightning. Her chest hurt for all the times her heart must’ve stopped and restarted.

If mages turned to destruction and violence when free, then did they even deserve—

No, she couldn’t think like that. The South was very much Not Friendly towards mages, and for some, all they’ve ever known is the oppressiveness of the Circles. It’s no wonder they would lash out, when so much violence has been done to them.

Obviously, talking wasn’t going to change their situation. It had been a long time since Valerie might’ve had a chance to save them.

So Valerie grimaced, and looted the bodies, looking for better armor to use, or any amulets that could help. When she’d gone to hand Cassandra a belt with an obvious fire resistance symbol, she’d looked at Valerie with concern.

Thankfully, Cassandra just took the belt, and didn’t ask.

* * *

Valerie hated the Hinterlands.

The fucking bears. The fucking wolves. The fucking side quests. The fucking apostates and templars. She barely survived every encounter, coming out practically wired on healing potions, and she wanted to scream at everyone.

She finally did, when they got to killing the den of wolves ruled by the terror demon. It was the sound of a dying wolf’s whine that made something in her snap.

“I fucking hate this! Making me kill innocent animals just because some demons felt like ruining shit! ¡ _Este_ _pocilga_!”

“Calm down over there, Raven, your squawks are getting incomprehensible,” Varric said with trepidation.

“Fuck off, Varric, read the room,” she yelled in reply, whipping around to face him. “I hate that people are dying, I hate that Templars are stupid and we had to kill them, I hate that we had to do the same to the mages yesterday, I hate everybody is fighting because the Chantry can’t handle their shit, I hate that I’m here and that I’m the damn Herald of Andraste! Can the universe give me a fucking break?!” She kicked a rock in front of her as hard as she could. It hurt, but it went flying, and she felt better watching it land against a rock wall, and make a satisfying clack. She clenched her fists. More of the fury and exhaustion came, like it was boiling over.

And tears. Oh. She was crying. The thickness in her voice made sense now. The daggers dropped from her hands as they shook. She wiped under her eyes and turned away from Varric.

“Nobody gives a _shit_ about Corypheus and his dumb fucking face and his dumb fucking lyrium and the Black City or whatever shit he’s on about all the time. Nobody gives a shit that he wants to be a god. But no, just because he’s a powerful quasi-immortal magister, he gets to ruin EVERYBODY’s lives! People worship him for no fucking reason, and he gets to feel like he deserves it. Fucking asshole, fucking puta, fucking—” the next rock she kicked did not budge, and she crumpled to the ground at the pain. “Fucking ow!”

Valerie was crying harder, now that she wasn’t yelling anymore. The kind of crying where you inhale as fast as you can just so you can make the most strained sob you can. The kind where tears are falling from all four corners of your eyes and you don’t bother to wipe them away, even when they soak the collar of your shirt.

The others were quiet, but she didn’t care. She wanted to cry. She hadn’t let herself cry like this since getting here.

“I didn’t want this. I want my mom back. I want this fucking mark off my hand. I want the right person to be the Herald, not me, because fuck if I know what I’m doing. I want things to be fair, I want to make people stop being greedy assholes and dicks to others for no damn reason. But no. I have to run around, killing scared people who still manage to be assholes to each other, and-and-and,” Valerie sobbed again. Her knees were curled into her chest, and she want to keep hitting things. But she was so goddamn _tired_ of it all.

Her mom would always listen whenever Valerie was crying like this. Her mom would always sympathize and encourage her to let herself feel things. If she was there, her mom would have a hand on her shoulder, and cry with her. If they were apart, mom would video call her, listen and watch a movie with her. Her mom wouldn’t leave until she had managed to smile and laugh. She had been a constant support, an endless source of love and comfort.

But her mom wasn’t here. All she had were these fictional people come to life. This entire thing should’ve been a dream that ended a long time ago, but she was still here.

“I want my mom back,” Valerie said again, crying harder. It hurt so much to know she couldn’t see her mom again. It hurt so _fucking_ much, and nothing could be done about it.

Varric was sitting on the rocks next to her, but Valerie only noticed when he started talking. “I’m sorry, Raven. You’re feeling like everything is wrong, and that’s okay. You have plenty of reason to feel that way.”

“I already fucking know that, Varric.” What kind of pep talk was this?

He sighed. “That came out wrong. What I mean is, that you’re suffering, and you have plenty of reason for it. More than anyone else, I’d say, given how far from home you are.”

Cassandra and Solas were busy searching for supplies, but it was possible they could hear him. The way Varric phrased it…fuck it, Valerie didn’t care if people knew about her origins, not right now. Varric was right. Another sob rose in her throat, and she let it out, trying to be quiet but probably failing.

“Fucking assholes, starting the apocalypse. Can’t have shit in Thedas.”

Varric laughed dryly. “Yeah, that’s how it works here.”

“It really shouldn’t be.” She wiped at some of the tears on her face.

He paused a moment before speaking, and tilted his head towards her. “You’re going change that?”

Valerie didn’t respond immediately. If she was going to be Inquisitor, she could. She could make the changes Thedas needed. Back home, she’d been average. Make no mistake, she felt happy with her life, dating occasionally, working as a developer, playing D&D with her friends, spending time with her mom.

But as the Inquisitor, she could have a fucking impact on the world around her.

It would just be without the things that made her happy.

At that thought, tears started to spill once more. “I can, I could. I just…I want to be happy.”

“Amen to that,” he said quietly. “If it makes you feel any better, I know that people are adaptable. They find happiness in the most difficult situations. I’m sure you’re people, just like everyone else, and you’ll find bits of happiness along the way.”

Valerie grimaced. She knew that, she just… “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

“Come on, there’s happiness out there. Even if it’s a good drink, or a good lay.”

Valerie laughed. “I, uh, don’t anticipate charming the pants off someone anytime soon. At least, not with this thing.” She waggled the fingers on her left hand, where the mark glowed.

“Oh you’d be surprised. I can think of a dozen lines a worker at the Blooming Rose could say about using that hand.”

Valerie finally wiped at the tears as she laughed again. The pressure from her frustration was easing. “You’ll have to tell me those later.”

“So, you feeling any better? Got it out of your system?”

“Not all of it, but I’m not going to explode again anytime soon.”

“Hey, don’t jinx it, we don’t know what that mark’s gonna do.”

Valerie laughed, wiped the last of her tears, and stood up. She still felt like shit, her eyes were puffy and her collar was wet with tears, but she tied her hair back with a string of leather, and moved on.

* * *

The others took a while to relax around her after her mini-meltdown. Their camp was quiet that night, only the fire crackling and the forest making its variety of noises.

Varric was the one who finally broke the silence. “Got another story for us, Valerie?”

“Huh?” Valerie had been lost in thought, staring at the fire, when she was supposed to be reviewing her notes.

“Give us a story. I personally enjoyed the last one.”

Cassandra was smiling as she commented, “I did as well. You are a much more serious storyteller than Varric is, and I prefer it.”

“Hey, don’t shit on me just to compliment her.”

“Varric, I said that it is my preference. I did not mean to insult your own…unique style.”

“Why you—”

Valerie interrupted them before the argument fully broke out. “I’ve got a good one!” Thankfully, the two went quiet. Solas was fiddling with a piece of magic ice across his fingers, but had looked up to watch their conversation. “This one’s called the Count of Monte Cristo. A tale of Orlesians who rise to nobility and fame, but the one they stepped on becomes the one who brings their world crashing down. Political intrigue. Revenge. Sound like a story you’re interested in?”

Varric was immediately nodding. “Vengeance and nobles eating shit? I like it.”

Cassandra seemed interested too. “I like political intrigue in stories, though they often become dull.”

“Well, I don’t know much about the actual Orlesian nobility, so it’ll have no basis in reality, don’t worry.”

“Wait, is this going to be a ghost story?” Varric asked suddenly.

“No. Well, metaphorically, yes, but no actual ghosts.”

Solas relaxed slightly where he was sitting. He still hadn’t made a comment, but had his head tilted slightly so he could watch and listen.

“Edmond Dantes was young for a naval captain. At 23 years old, he’d been first mate to his friend and captain, Vauntier.” She didn’t remember the actual name, but whatever. It sounded French. “The man was old, but up until the fever that gripped him last week, lively and active and friendly among his crewmates. Edmond missed the man, who had died clutching a letter in his hand, begging Edmond to deliver this letter on his behalf.”

They took in the story quite well, only a couple sarcastic comments regarding Edmond’s success and naivete. Varric was immediately suspicious of the jealous crewmate and the rejected suitor of Mercedes, Edmond’s fiancée. Solas actually let out a snort at hearing the overexaggerated plotting that occurred between them, and the drunken neighbor.

Their shocked gasps were quite satisfying when they learned that the letter in question was penned by a usurper. And how that letter was enough to bring Edmond in for questioning. It was hard to keep her glee held back as she narrated the exchange between the young deputy judge and Edmond.

“’I’m quite glad for your understanding in this, sir. I hadn’t known the letter was from Napoleon himself, I had assumed it was something that Vauntier was sending to a lawyer regarding his will.’ Edmond sighed, and dabbed his napkin on his brow. Villefort was getting his things packed up, eager to get back to his engagement party. ‘I am merely glad we were able to keep from aiding the usurper in whatever machinations he has in store. If I may, I’d like to collect the letter as evidence.’ ‘Very well! Here it is.’ Villefort inspected the outside of the letter, then paled at reading the name in front.”

“Valerie, what are you going to do to us?”

She ignored Varric. “The person to receive this letter was one Monsieur Noirtier. If Edmond had been a man of higher standing in society, he would’ve known that Noirtier was an extreme supporter of the usurper, and if he was of the more well-connected of Orlesian society, he would’ve known that Noirtier was the father of our Monsieur de Villefort, who’s career hinged on his devotion to the Orlesian throne.”

“Shit!”

“As it were, Edmond only felt concern at seeing the gentleman go pale. ‘Is something the matter?’ ‘No. For investigation purposes, I must know if you shared the existence of this letter with anybody, or if you told anybody of the receiver.’ ‘No, sir, I was instructed to deliver the letter quickly and discretely.’ Villefort pursed his lips, then tossed the letter to the flames. ‘It is better that this letter does not come to light. I wish to preserve your good name, Monsieur Dantes.’”

“Lies!” Cassandra cried out. “He just wants to preserve his own good name!”

Valerie continued without comment. “Edmond gave his thanks, his gratitude especially intensified at the kindness that the deputy judge was willing to show him. Villefort smiled tightly, and led Edmond back outside. ‘You will be taken away now. Thank you again for your time.’ Little did Edmond know, that armored carriage would take him straight to Chateau d’If, a prison island surrounded by constant storm.”

The air was quiet again, only fire and nature making sound.

“That’s it?” Solas asked suddenly. It made Valerie start, and glance over to him. She’d been talking for a good half hour, and not a peep from him.

“Of course not,” she replied. “I’m continuing tomorrow, but we need to get watch set up.”

The sword that Cassandra had been polishing(? Oiling? Cleaning excessively?) was sheathed. “I agree, it has been dark for an hour already. I will take the last watch. I assume Varric will be going first?”

“Yeah, yeah, Seeker. I’ll just be sitting here, fuming that Raven left us on such a cliffhanger.”

“Like you don’t do the same,” Valerie said at the same time as Cassandra said, “you are guilty of doing just as such.”

Solas actually chuckled at that.

* * *

Dennet was a good guy, she was sure. Certainly, he’d been nothing but a hard worker and a man of values and—holy shit, she wanted to punch him.

“Sir, I understand that beggars can’t be choosers. But I’ve already gone and risked by life several times over to meet these demands already. I simply don’t want to return empty-handed to my people.”

Dennet crossed his arms. “You’ve already horses for yourselves. That’s 4 more than what the Inquisition started off with. You’re not getting any more until those towers are built.”

Thing is, Valerie had no idea how long it would take to build those towers. And she had no idea how long it would take to send up the herd of horses up to Haven. They needed those horses for the journey to Skyhold, at the very least, and for the Inquisition’s forces to get started.

So should she send a letter to Leliana, asking if she should push Dennet for the horses sooner? Did they need the horses sooner? Because walking an entire army on foot probably definitely took much longer. But how much army did they have? Would Dennet go back on his deal entirely if she pushed too hard? How many resources were they straining by building these towers?

“How about a compromise?” she finally offered. The man was as tall as her, so she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “As soon as our men arrive to build those towers, we get the horses. I’d like to remind you that the Inquisition is currently the only people offering support and investing in the infrastructure here in the Hinterlands. We see the value of the people here. We’re happy to build these towers so the people can be better protected. You will have full access to any updates regarding the towers. Deal?”

Dennet eyed her for a long moment. Whatever he was thinking must’ve been a good thing, because he then said, “Alright.”

Valerie had to keep from literally sighing in relief.

“But!” Dennet added. “I’m coming along too. I refuse to let these horses get mistreated or neglected.”

She smiled warmly. “That’s perfectly acceptable. The Inquisition is happy to welcome you, horsemaster Dennet.”

* * *

Solas stood beside her at the fort’s raised walkway. They’d converted the small cult worshipping the Breach and closed a rift, but decided to stay the night in their hospitality, since being in a fort meant that they could all sleep soundly through the night. It was late, one of the moons already risen in the dark sky. Sleep was evading Valerie, so here she stood, staring at the mountains painted in shadow. Apparently, it was elusive to Solas as well.

Valerie kept her posture, hunched forward to rest her elbows on the cold stone of the walkway’s bannister, but watched him in the corner of her eye.

“You do not want to be Herald.”

It was a statement, not a question. “I don’t believe in Andraste or the Maker.” Her explanation was neutral enough.

Solas laughed sharply. “Your discussions with the Seeker were evidence enough of that. I almost envy you for escaping the influence of the Chantry’s beliefs.” Which, fair, given how Cassandra had taken to educating her on the Chantry doctrine, and Valerie had argued.

Knowing what she did about Solas, Valerie wasn’t sure what he was getting at. She turned her head to eye his expression. He seemed to be drifting his gaze from empty space to her, back and forth. In the light of the moon and stars, his features looked angular and deep and ghostly. “You’ve been given that title, whether you like it or not.”

Valerie thought of all the titles that Solas had been given by his believers. He Who Hunts Alone. The Dread Wolf. The Lord of Tricksters. Soon enough, Valerie would have her own collection of titles. “And what about yourself?” she found herself asking.

His focus sharpened towards her. “Excuse me?”

Shit. Bad phrasing. “What about you? What do you believe?”

Something calmed in his posture and expression. His eyes, however, didn’t drift any more, staying focused on her entirely. The weight of his stare was…intense. “If you’re asking if I believe in the elvhen gods, I’m afraid I do not, though I will not begin to explain why. The nuances would be lost on a human.”

She wanted to comment that she had seen the future, and had seen a lot of stuff that had educated her on the ‘nuances’, but that would be going from risky territory into straight-up danger. “Fair point. So you’re not Andrastian, and you don’t believe in the elvhen gods…what _do_ you believe in?”

What gods does a god believe in?

Solas let out another dry laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t believe in much. My people once worshipped various aspects of nature and the Fade, but it was not a faith so much as a fact that we owed respect to.”

Valerie tilted her head slightly. “The Avvar kind of do that. They have certain gods in legends, but their contemporary gods are spirits.”

That had Solas looking halfway between considering and shocked. “You are familiar with their practices?”

“Eh, not yet,” she answered, shaking her hand in a ‘sort of’ motion. “But they’re a very interesting people. Spirits possess mages to teach them magic. Spirits are also consulted on important matters of a tribe.”

Now Solas looked near impressed, if Valerie wasn’t mistaken. “You mean to say that the Inquisition will have interactions with the Avvar in the future?”

Since Hakkon Wintersbreath was one of the problems listed in her notebook, yes. “Yeah. Even if I don’t personally go, we will be helping them solve a problem.”

“I would ask that I be allowed to accompany you there. I wish to learn more about their practices.”

“Of course,” Valerie promised. It was good that Solas was taking an interest in a living culture. Something that hinted that Solas wasn’t fully obsessed with his dream of restoring the elvhen empire.

“May I ask you about your visions of the future?”

The implications of his question hit Valerie like a semi. She was careful to not change her posture or stiffen, but inside, she was panicking.

Did he suspect that she knew about his identity of Fen’Harel? Or his current extracurricular activities? This was the first time Solas had expressed an interest in her foresight. He must’ve been remarkably patient to have waited this long. Someone with a secret would worry.

“You can ask, but there are some questions I can’t answer,” she settled on saying, opting for ambiguity.

“That is perhaps wise. I wanted to ask if you experience continuous prophecy. You seem to have seen much in your visions, but did you receive this knowledge in parts?”

She shook her head. “No. Just the one time, all at once.” Technically untrue, but it was her story, and it would make more sense to those who asked these kinds of questions.

“I see. Prophecy has occurred before in the Fade, but only in gifted individuals, and even then, it only shows fragmented visions that do not come close to true sight. But those cases occurred when an individual dreamed in the Fade. Perhaps your physical entry into the Fade is what gave you such intense visions.” His words were coming quick, as they do when the Fade is brought up in discussion.

“That must be it. You certainly know more about the Fade than I do.”

Some of the excitement in his eyes dulled at her words. His hands that had been gesturing went to clasp behind his back. “Of course. I apologize, I forget that not all are as connected or dedicated towards the Fade as I am. You are no mage.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she hurried to say. “You can definitely talk about it, I learn a lot. I just mean that I can’t discuss the topic as thoroughly as you.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “I see. I appreciate the sentiment, and I thank you for listening.”

“I’m ignorant in a lot of things about the Fade,” try _everything_ about the Fade, “so I appreciate learning more. I definitely liked learning about the Veil today when we found that artifact.”

He smiled slightly. “Only because the Veil is an especially relevant topic.”

She laughed. “Okay, I’ll give you that, but I liked hearing you explain it anyways.”

He smiled, and paused a moment before speaking. “I have another question I’d like to ask.”

“Go ahead.” It was a bit disturbing how easy the conversation felt with Solas. She didn’t know what to think of this, feeling at ease and comfortable around him.

“What are you planning with such intensity?” he asked.

Again, alarm bells were ringing in Valerie’s head. Sure, she’d been writing a lot in her notebook, trying to find a way to wrap up all the threads of the Inquisition’s story with as little sacrifice and damage done as possible. Of course Solas would take an interest in that. He didn’t know how much she’d seen in her ‘visions’.

So her response needed to mislead him, or at the very least, avoid hinting at the full depth of her knowledge.

“The Inquisition has a lot of work to do. I can accomplish that work faster and with less damage than what I saw in my visions.”

His head tilted. The shine on his bald head reflected the moonlight for a moment, and she had to suppress a giggle at the sight, despite how intense the conversation felt. “You are taking a great risk by diverting from the path to success as shown to you thus far.”

The words of warning hit her much more effectively than they had with Mother Giselle. Solas had lived through his own apocalypse, and he was suffering the consequences of his arrogance. Even his name was a monument to his foolish pride.

Would she end up like Solas? If she was mistaken, and lived long enough to see the consequences, would she turn into a stubborn fool like him?

Well, she wasn’t immortal, and she had a lot more knowledge of the Inquisitor’s actions and their effects on Thedas, and, more importantly, she gave a shit about the people right in front of her. “It’s a risk I’m taking. If I can save even one extra life, then it’ll be worth it.”

His eyebrows quirked up. “You place such value on one individual’s life?”

“Of course.”

He took another moment to respond. “That is why you were so upset, the other day. In the wolf den.”

Part of her felt embarrassed at her breakdown, but she was not going to invalidate her emotions to Solas. “I don’t like killing people. I understand that sitting down and talking out these problems isn’t possible anymore, I’m not that naïve. But I still wish there was a way to save them.”

“They are too far gone,” Solas said, shaking his head. “The Templars have been corrupted by Chantry dogma and lyrium, and the mages have been driven the point of desperation and beyond.”

“ _Joder_ , I know,” she sighed. “But if I had a way, they’d still be worth saving.”

“Why?”

Valerie looked away from Solas to the forest and mountains outside the fort. How the hell could she answer that question to Solas? The man who would bring about the apocalypse just because his last attempt didn’t work, and viewed these people as incomplete abominations?

Hell, she could even empathize with him on having difficulty relating to these people. She was from Earth, and this was Thedas, and she was in the wrong place and she didn’t belong. The stars themselves seem to mock her, with their unfamiliarity and too-bright shine on a land that wasn’t hers.

But that didn’t change the fact that when she looked into the eyes of another, she saw a person. Complexity. Wants, hopes and dreams. Struggles and vices. They experienced personhood as thoroughly as she did, meaning that they were just as important as she was.

Solas did not see people the same way. Isolation, pride, or godhood (or all of the above) caused a separation in him from others, and that separation is what stopped his compassion. Or whatever compassion he had left in him.

Which brought her back to the issue: how the hell could she explain this to him?

She had gone too long without saying anything, so she turned her head to look back at Solas. He was patiently waiting, and watching her. Again, she sighed. Maybe simple was better. “Because I care. That’s what it ultimately comes down to.”

Solas tilted his head slightly, and after a moment, nodded slowly. “That is…sentimental.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that like it isn’t a good thing.”

“I did not mean to imply it was a bad thing. Sentiment itself is good, but you must forgive me if I find your application of it to be unwise.”

Was Solas trying to start some shit? Nothing in his expression seemed irritated or condescending, but the message was clearly insulting. Probably something to do with him being immortal and old, and herself being young, even by mortal standards.

“Call me unwise all you want, but my mother taught me to extend kindness to people in desperate situations, and I’m not about to go disrespecting her like that.” Thinking of her mom reminded her of the pain in her chest, of the loss, but it felt a little easier to think of the ways she’d taught Valerie to be a good person.

Oddly enough, Solas smiled. “Justifying sentiment with sentiment.”

Okay, now she knew he was being condescending. Anger sparked in her chest. “Look down on it all you want, Solas, but it’s important to me. I’m not willing to debate it anymore.”

That seemed to startle him. His posture straightened and his eyes blinked against the moonlight. “I apologize, I seem to have crossed some line.”

Seemed to? She basically spelled out exactly where the line was. “You did. I’ll talk to you later, Solas. Have a good night.”

With that, she made her way back to her and Cassandra’s room. Her boots made satisfying thumps as she walked away quickly. Part of her knew that ‘her emotions were getting the best of her,’ but fuck it. Fuck it all. She wanted the space, she didn’t want to tiptoe around conversation with Solas, and she didn’t want to debate morals with a man who would commit genocide and justify it.

Instead of sleeping, she spent the remainder of the night reviewing her plans. It was her responsibility to lead the Inquisition and save the world, and she was going to make sure she did it right.


End file.
